A Sky Full of Starlight
by 8andahalfby11
Summary: Ten years after "A Sky Full of Fire" and two years after "A Sky Full of Thunder", an unexpected discovery about the Gate hints at a danger unlike any humanity has faced before. Politicians, soldiers, and scientists scramble in the ultimate confrontation of magic, technology, gods, and wills.
1. Prologue

_Previously_ …

 **Ten miles outside of the Sankai Resort, Hakone, Japan**

Itami's head was spinning faster than the wheels of the van as his mind struggled to make sense of everything that had happened in the past two hours.

It was supposed to be a calm and relaxing evening at a hot springs resort. He had been assured that the JSDF had stationed guards outside, and would be monitoring the area remotely via UAV. The resulting evening and next morning were supposed to happen like an anime OVA, or one of Rise's doujinshis. Funny, lighthearted, _maybe_ a little embarrassing, but overall a good time.

This, of course, begged the question, _what idiot writer starts a firefight in the middle of the Onsen Episode!?_

Instead of leaving his room at eight AM with a cup of coffee in one hand and a sleepy Tuka clutching the other, he had opened the partially demolished door at an hour past midnight to find the tea garden littered with corpses and Rory Mercury in a blood-soaked nightgown, perched atop a boulder with a delighted smile on her face.

It wasn't until they were speeding away from the resort in a captured van that their guests from the Special Region began asking questions. Remarkably, it was Pina who figured it out first. "This is my conjecture," she said, "But I have been sold out, haven't I?"

 _Impossible_ ,Itami thought. _The Ministry of Defense would never…_ "No," he said. 'That's not it."

"But since the first day the plans and form of transportation have been changed several times, that underground hell's ride suddenly stopped after we got off, the place we were supposed to stay had a fire and this attack that just happened…" she shook her head. "There are too many strange incidents."

Itami cast a glance at Tomita in the driver's seat and Kuribayashi, who Pina had halted in the middle of a chiding. The three of them had already stumbled their way through diplomacy at Italica, and the subject that Pina was approaching would have been handled better by a professional. _Where's Yanagida when you need him!?_ Itami yearned to shout.

The princess pressed further. "I came to this country to mediate negotiations. I came for _peace_ negotiations. Yet our guards vanished, leaving us like a chained lamb in front of a monster. The only ones who could do this are the ones controlling this country. _Therefore_ , in this world there are currently powers that want to proceed with the peace negotiations, and others that are against it. Correct?"

"...something like that," Itami said. "It's complicated."

"Could it be that woman from their government?" Bozes asked, "Kouhara Mizuki?"

"Minister Kouhara thinks highly of herself," Tomita replied, with an amused grin. "But she does not control the JSDF. The only politicians who do are the Prime Minister, and the Minister of Defense."

"Kano's a tough old bastard," Itami countered. "He wouldn't betray Japan. Not even at gunpoint."

" _Eeeeh?_ " Kuribayashi said, clearly putting two and two together. "Why would the Motoi sell out his own country? I mean, _I_ didn't vote for him, but come on-"

"Someone else could have forced him," Pina said simply. "Hostages, bribery, blackmail."

"It was another kingdom." Lelei said simply.

The others stopped in their argument and turned to look at her, so she added. "Only some of the soldiers who attacked us looked Japanese."

"Itami," Pina said, now very serious. "How many nations does this world have aside from Japan?"

 _Shit!_ If there was one thing that Itami did not want Pina thinking of, it was other nations. "Two hundred, I think? A lot."

"And where would you say Japan ranks among these nations?"

"High."

"How high? The top?"

This time Itami said nothing, and he stared daggers at Tomita and Kuribayashi, daring them to open their mouths.

Rather than let the conversation die, Tuka picked up the thread. "On the way here, Miss Kuribayashi said she heard the languages _Eigo, Roshiago, and Chugokugo._ If the language of Nihon (Japan) is _Nihongo_ , the other nations are Chugoku (China), Roshia (Russia), and Ei. Correct?"

But the three JSDF soldiers refused to say anything else. Instead, Itami had Tomita pull over at the next convenience store, and allowed the topic of processed food and vending machines to coerce the girls into talking about something else. As they got back into the car, Itami switched out with Tomita in the driver's seat, and one by one the girls fell asleep.

Or, that was what Itami had hoped. At a red light, he glanced over his shoulder. They were all exhausted, and even Kuribayashi seemed to be nodding off.

… well, all of them except Rory. She had been silent for the entire drive, but before their departure she had moved to the seat right behind Itami's and leaned forward. When she spoke, it was with a low voice, so as not to wake the others. "China, Russia, and Ei. Are they _really_ more powerful than Japan?"

"Rory, please. Drop it."

"They didn't _seem_ more powerful. Is Japan _really_ worried about a war against such foes?"

If he didn't stop her somehow, Itami knew that she was going to pester him all night long… but what to say? How to phrase it so that the Special Region wouldn't consider seeking allies from outside Japan?

"Japan sits at the middle of a balance of power between three countries," Itami said. "All three don't like each other, and all three have fought wars against Japan in the past. Right now, they all stand against each other in a very delicate balance, because they know that a war between any two of them would cede the world to the third. Japan has built very careful relationships with all three, some stronger than others, which allows us to prosper, and helps to maintain the balance of power. This is how it has been for generations...until the Gate appeared. So why did they attack? I think it was because they were afraid… of you. What you meant for that balance."

He expected Rory to find that funny for some reason, but instead the girl uttered a ponderous, "Hmmmm… and here the Gods thought the Imperials were stagnant. If your attack on Italica means anything, I guess it means Earth wars must be _really_ bloody. No wonder all the sides are afraid to fight."

She could feel her lean away slightly, and Itami supposed that she'd gotten the information she wanted. Still, she muttered, "A balance of power between Russia, China, and Ei..."

"They're not called Ei," Itami said.

"Then what are they called?"

"The United States of America."

* * *

The event, which came to be known as the Hakone Incident, sparked a chain of events which none of the major powers on Earth could have foreseen, and an intense high-stakes battle against forces the humans of Earth couldn't imagine.

Shortly after the Hakone Incident, Japan's ministry of defense confronted US President Dirrel and his Secretary of Defense, Robert Clayton, with evidence that the Special Region beyond the Gate was inhabited by ethereal beings which the locals referred to as Gods. These Gods were supposedly extremely powerful, all knowing, and to be feared. Japan feared that they might have upset one after interfering with the work of an Apostle-one of the Gods' direct representatives. Seeing negotiations as unlikely to succeed in their favor, Japan instead approached the Americans in hopes of getting their hands on humanity's most powerful deterrent; the atomic bomb.

Clayton, aware that access to the magic and life beyond the Gate was of utmost strategic importance, and knowing that something was needed to balance out Hakone, facilitated a deal which would allow the deployment of a single nuclear weapon to Alnus, under the guise of a scientific suborbital rocket program. To lead this program, he had his subordinate, Colonel Richard Mullan, recruit NASA engineer Dr. Carol Dawson to provide a show for the locals.

Dawson proved herself more invested than Clayton or Mullan had expected. Within weeks, she had mentored Greta La Saretenian, ignited an interest in spaceflight in the locals, and convinced the Academic Rondel Council of planetary heliocentricity; booting primary heliocentricity critic Nariv El Delsus in the process. When Nariv retaliated with force, he and a number of other rioters were killed by the JSDF.

Carol's zeal with the project ended the moment she discovered that one of the three rockets America had brought to the Special Region had an atomic payload. She ultimately accepted Clayton's explanation for the device, and her willingness to return to the Special Region spared the entire city of Bellnahgo from destruction when General Hazama demanded use of the bomb as a counterattack to an offensive of monsters lead by Giselle and the Goddess Hardy. This counterattack was stopped after Itami discovered that his commanders had been fed erroneous information about Gates. Specifically, Yanagida had forged the idea that Apocryph, a dangerous black material that destroys all matter and warps space, was the product of the Gods, rather than an instability generated by leaving large Gates open for too long. Armed with this information, Carol convinced President Dirrel to abort the planned launch and change the target.

At Rory's suggestion, the atomic bomb was used against a traveling invasion army from Carenth, a large nation somewhere to Falmart's Southeast. The effects of the detonation were dramatic; nuclear radiation emitted by the weapon injured the Gods, something that the residents of the Special Region thought to be impossible. Backed into a corner by the threat of nuclear retaliation, the Gods formed an agreement with the United States and Japan; the Gods would remain out of human affairs, and in exchange the Americans would not use nuclear weapons.

Nonetheless, news of the "Godwrecker" slowly made its way around the continent of Falmart, as did word for the new technology and sciences being introduced at Alnus. Seeing the possibility for abuse, the Earth countries placed an immediate halt on all further information exchange, with Clayton claiming to Carol that a permanent deterrent was being worked upon.

Seven years after the bombing, Falmart once again stood on the brink of war. On the one side, Sadera, lead by Sherry Tyueli who was seeking to establish herself as the dominant power of a soon-to-be Falmart Republic. On the other side, Rondel, lead by Chairman Tiberias El Delsus, angered at the death of his cousin by JSDF troops and supported by a city wishing to free itself from burdensome taxes. Sherry soon established the _Casus Belli_ she needed and urged Empress Pina to prepare the nation for war.

The war itself took an unexpected twist early on when Italica came under attack by magically-driven light aircraft launched from Rondel. Italica, unprepared to repel an attack from the sky, seemed about to take serious damage when the assault was interrupted by Ellie Fa Agne, a member of the winged Monarch species of demihumans. She had been traveling with a survivor of the nuclear attack, Hector El Sava, and was operating a Japanese test aircraft when the attack occurred.

Aware of the technical potential posed by a competent pilot and Sherry's Machinations, Clayton (now US Ambassador to the Saderan Empire) ordered Ellie, Hector, and Pina moved to Ichijima Island, a military research and resupply base off the coast of Falmart jointly operated by the JMSDF and US Navy. There, Ellie met Greta, who at Carol's suggestion had been working on a suborbital air-launched spaceplane based on the X-15.

Meanwhile, the Japanese learned that Chairman Delsus had accepted the help and guidance of one of Falmart's Gods, Palapon, in violation of the nuclear agreement made seven years earlier. Furthermore, a World Health Organization member, Dr. Nguyen, was offering technical advice to Rondel in exchange for more information on the Apostles and their recovery abilities.

Fearing a large-scale air assault, Pina reached out to Greta for assistance. In response, Greta concocted a plan to disrupt Rondel's magic-boosting focus crystals from the edge of space. Ellie and Hector piloted the craft, and the plan was ultimately successful, knocking Rondel's airfleet out the sky and giving the JASDF and Saderan ground forces a guaranteed victory.

On the brink of failure, Palapon attempted to intervene directly, but was countered when Clayton activated ADMIT FUSCHIA, a military black project for creating stable Gates, and used it to warp the exhaust of a nuclear engine from Groom Lake AFB to the skies of Falmart. As before, the radiation seared the Gods, causing them continuous injury. Using Rory as a channel, Clayton demanded that the Gods stop Palapon, and was met with evidence of a brutal, global assault as the other Gods ripped all of Palapon's distributed particles from existence. Millions were injured in the process, but the battle was clearly won.

The war ended with Delsus's assassination, and the attention of both worlds quickly turned to what would come next. America now possessed a delivery device that could transport anything, anywhere, at any time, effectively burning the rulebook on conventional and nuclear military strategy. In a desperate attempt to restore balance, General Kengun urged Japan to open up the Gate to the international community, presumably in hopes that a second nation could find parity with the United States.

As the nations of the world rushed to experience the Special Region for themselves, no one paid much attention to Nguyen, who was extradited back to Vietnam with an important secret. Before being murdered by the other gods, Palapon had granted Apostle abilities to Nguyen, thereby granting the God of revenge one last avenue to do what he did best.

This is the final story of man vs. god, nation vs. nation, and, of course, the Gate itself.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:**_

Well, here we are again.

I figure that there's one more story to tell in the Skies universe, and while I can't guarantee quality, I am happy to say that I can guarantee timeliness. As of the time of this post, all but the last chapter of this story are fully drafted and edited. My plan is to release them on a weekly basis, though I might accelerate that rate if the last one is finished and edited early enough. The benefit of this is that I can promise you here and now that the entirety of _Starlight_ will be published before SpaceX flies astronauts this June.

This work relies pretty heavily on ideas introduced back in the previous two novels. As such, I would recommend that you go back and look over some of the key points of the earlier works for the best experience. If you are new, I highly advise going back and reading _A Sky Full of Fire_ and _A Sky Full of Thunder._

And if you're a return reader, thanks for sticking with me for so long, and for one last time in the Gate universe, welcome back!


	2. Chapter 1 - Earth Orbit

**ABOUT TEN YEARS AFTER** _ **A SKY FULL OF FIRE**_

 **TWENTY TWO MONTHS AFTER** _ **A SKY FULL OF THUNDER**_

 **3PM Super-Rapid, JR Kobe-Kyoto Line, Japan**

Hideyo Komakado wasn't quite ready for retirement, even if his body disagreed with him.

In his years with the Japanese Defense Intelligence Service and later the Public Security Intelligence Agency, Komakado had seen it all. Riots, scams, cyberwarfare, military incursions by other nations, and with the introduction of the Gate, whole assortments of fantasy creatures the likes of which would make the average okatu squeal… or the average sane person puke. His few days of interaction with Itami and now-Empress Pina somehow made him Japan's 'expert' on the matter (something Kommakado himself felt couldn't be further from the truth) and he was usually called upon for cases that dealt with members of the Special Region either visiting Japan, or traveling on a tourist visa.

Part of the reason why he liked it was for the challenge. Demihumans from Falmart made for interesting pursuit problems, but were also highly vulnerable to technological countermeasures. For instance, a rabbit-woman had once assaulted the owner of a Pachinko arcade, and had then attempted to flee the police. This resulted in a complex, 3-D chase through Akihabara, and he had ultimately resolved it using a drone-launched anti-drone net, as nothing else could match her climb rate or reflexes. That said, he still was called upon to do some of the chasing himself, and that was where his lungs, legs, and back would remind him just how old he actually was.

He unconsciously dropped a hand to his lower back, which he had thrown out ten years ago while trying to pick up Rory's halberd. True, he wasn't the only thing on Earth that had changed since the Hakone incident, but at least the other things didn't follow him home.

Komakado's head jerked up at the noise of the train's PA system. " _Mamonaku, Sannomiya. Sannomiya desu. Deguchi wa, migi gawa desu._ " He was at his destination.

The doors opened to the thick, humid early-June air of Sannomiya station, and Komakado started on his way. The platforms, at least, remained the same as they had years ago, but as soon as he was inside the station itself, the change in the world became more apparent.

 _Real Italica leatherworks, on sale for 25% off!_

 _Dominos' Deluxe Meat-Lovers Pizza, featuring Ma-nuga meat for a limited time!_

 _Nya~nya heaven! Visit Osaka's first all-catgirl maid cafe!_

 _Re: Dragonrider New World Zero-A new Anime Adaptation of the Alnus LN starts this autumn!_

On and on and on… it seemed like the normal patchwork of advertisements that coated the train station and billboard walls had all taken on a distinctly Special Region flavor. With the increased trade volume and massive foreign investment, it was like everyone wanted a piece of the new world, and were looking for a new way to sell, rebrand, or modify anything that even hinted at being from the far side of the Gate. Some news personalities called it _Gate Fever_ , but Komakado simply thought of it as insanity. Just a month ago his nephew had bounced up to him with news of an all bunny-girl Idol Group, and he had struggled to resist the urge to vomit. Otaku were bad enough before fantasy became reality, but the fact that the world was seeming to go along with it was very off-putting.

He longed for the days where the Special Region remained on its own side of the Gate. Now it seemed like everyone in Falmart was applying for a work or vacation visa, and that brought with it all the problems that kept him busy. _At least they're not letting them into schools_ , he thought. Special Region humans were about as dangerous as their Earth counterparts, but the idea of a young demihuman or magician getting into a schoolyard fight and the bloody consequences that were sure to follow made his stomach churn.

Stepping out of the station faced him with more of the same, and he checked his cellphone to make sure that he had the time and location correct.

"Ah, Komakado-san!" the woman who approached him was in military uniform and gave him a polite bow. "I am Takagi Sayo with Army Intelligence. I was instructed to pick you up."

Komakado returned the bow. "I feel privileged! It's not every day that you meet someone who did intelligence work in the Special Region."

"It seems that experience in the Special Region is why we were both called for this operation." She gestured him over to a car, they both got in, and they were on their way. After a minute of driving, she said, "How much do you know about the Fist of Twelve?"

"Only what I have heard on the news, or around the PSIA" Komakado admitted. "A bunch of late high-school, early college gangs that became interested in Special Region lore. They consider themselves worshipers of the Twelve gods of Falmart, even the one that the Americans fried last year, and see themselves as forwarding their will here on Earth. They are troublesome, and occasionally violent, but not particularly dangerous. Not yet, at least."

He sighed and added, "Honestly, I think it's silly. Young people will always find some cause to hoist up as their flag of rebellion. Religion, politics… back in my day it was Communism. I don't see this as any different, but if our government agreed, they wouldn't call me, and they certainly wouldn't call the JSDF. Does someone at the top think this is an espionage operation?"

Takagi tapped a finger on the steering wheel for a moment before answering. "Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"These groups are too organized, and they have appeared in a dozen other first-world nations. It's a similar online recruiting network to ISIL, but bolstered by the popularity of the Special Region, which is more readily accepted by the popular culture than militant religion. Unsurprisingly, the Mossad was the first to catch on to the fact that the groups were getting orders from a centralized source. The major hubs of activity for the organization use VPNs and NAT port scrambling to make it harder to figure out where the ringleader is based, so the aim of today's raid is to capture the network equipment of their Kansai-area base and crack the location of their commander. If it's some _hikikomori_ in his mother's basement, that's one thing, but if their leader turns out to be working for the Falmart Republic..."

Komakado nodded, understanding. "I got some of that in the briefing," he said. "But I don't understand why they would send for me. Visitors from the Special Region normally look down on Earth people copying their culture… or are you saying that a magician or demihuman from Falmart is now involved?"

"We don't know for certain, that's why we called you in."

It took another twenty minutes to get up into the hills at the edge of the city. Even here, the buildings were still remarkably tall and wide, but the roads canted down at an uncomfortable angle. Here they rendezvoused with a handful of unmarked white vans, which opened to reveal fully geared members of the city's Special Assault Team-Japan's analog for Western SWAT groups. Once Komakado was fully geared up as well, the team surrounded their target, a medium-sized three story building that looked like it had seen better days… or perhaps simply hadn't been knocked down after the Kobe Earthquake in the '90s.

Since he hadn't been involved in practicing for the infiltration, the PSIA agent waited outside. Not the most glamourous role, but he was fine with that. If the raid went as he suspected it would, he wouldn't be needed at all, and he might drop in to meet an old friend in Osaka for dinner before taking a late train back to Tokyo.

He heard a crashing noise and looked up to see that three people had broken an upper story window; two men and a girl. They all looked down at the SAT forces below, panicked expressions on their faces, and rushed for the other side of the roof.

"Well, what are you waiting for!?" Komakado shouted at the other lawmen around him. "Let's get them!"

Tailed by half a dozen other police officers, Komakado rushed around the other side of a building to find that the three had already slid down a drainpipe and had taken off on foot. In this neighborhood, the streets were narrow, with lots of even smaller side passages. His targets were making things even harder by rushing downhill, giving them the edge and element of surprise if they decided to turn. At one point, the trio split up into a solo and pair, the latter of which Komakado and two other officers continued to pursue.

It seemed like the race would never end, and the suspects clearly knew the area better than he did, yet they stayed on them, and after a certain point one of the officers beside him shouted, "We have a drone tracking you now, you can't escape!"

It didn't matter if that was true or not, and clearly the pair didn't seem to mind. They just continued running, turned a corner, and were about to burst out into the next street when the alleyway was blocked by a car, out of which leapt Takagi, pistol drawn.

The pair finally slowed and, clearly noticing they were trapped, the man declared, "Your efforts are foolish! We are blessed by the supreme Gods of Falmart. In the names of Palapon, Emroy, and Hardy, stay out of our way!"

Komakado was having none of it. "Raise your hands above your head, then place them—slowly—on the wall!"

The girl in front of him looked terrified. She looked about high-school age, and was casting panicked glances over at her partner. "You!" Komakado shouted at her, "Think of your family! Think of your friends and classmates! We don't want to hurt you, and the more you resist, the greater trouble you will be in!"

Now the girl seemed to be shaking her head and muttering something, Komakado couldn't hear precisely what, but he watched as she raised her hand, palm open, as if willing him to go away.

Instead…

"DUCK!" Komakado shouted, dropping do the ground, just in time to miss the jet of fire that passed over his head. He also had enough time to see the older man pull a gun, prompting the PSIA agent to roll behind a dumpster and draw his own weapon.

From the other side he heard gunshots. There was no way of knowing if the shooter was the cultist of Takagi, but for the moment, Komakado didn't care. His mind was laser focused on the new threat. Visitors from the Special Region were prohibited from bringing Focus Crystals with them, in accordance with Japan's personal weapons laws, and all adepts that could use magic without one were registered when they applied for tourist or work visas. This meant that they were either facing an adept who had been smuggled through the Gate (unlikely, due to security checks) or someone who had smuggled a Focus Crystal into Japan without being caught (easier to imagine). That meant-

A shriek interrupted his train of thought, and he peeked out from his cover to see what was going on.

The man was nursing a wound to the shoulder, and the girl was frantically waving the arm she had up earlier, which was when Komakado realized… her shirtsleeve was on fire. This was his chance.

Komakado darted back into the alley and charged at the pair, changing direction at last minute to knock the girl to the ground and started patting at her arm. Behind him he heard the older gunman move, then a loud shot from Takagi's direction, followed by a heavy thump as the gunman collapsed.

With the immediate danger out of the way, Komakado pinned the girl so she couldn't move and placed a hand over her mouth so she couldn't speak. Magic, he knew, was based in the same parts of the brain responsible for speech, and directed by the parts of the brain responsible for vision, so even the act of making someone _think_ they couldn't speak was usually enough to reduce of the odds of them countering with magic.

Or, that was what Lelei had told him once.

The girl struggled for a few seconds, but then went limp, bursting into tears. "Call an ambulance and more guards," Komakado told Takagi. "You're probably best taking this girl to one of the JSDF military hospitals. The rest can be restrained the normal way."

As the JSDF intelligence specialist made her call, Komakado felt down the girls side, looking for a pocket or handbag that might contain her identification papers. The Falmart embassy would need to be contacted, and he would need to start an investigation with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to determine where the oversight had happened. In the end, he found a small handbag with a cellphone case. He pulled this open, and immediately froze.

"Takagi!" he shouted. "Call up the PSIA and Ministry of Defense too. Tell them… tell them it's an emergency."

Inside the cellphone holder was a student ID card. _Sasaki, Ayaka_ it read, followed by the name of the school she attended. _At least they're not letting them into schools_ , he had thought earlier.

With mounting horror, he realized that this could only mean one thing.

The magician he had pinned in a Sannomiya alleyway… was Japanese.

* * *

 **Defense Intelligence Headquarters, Tokyo, Japan**

"Impossible," Kano Taro said, dropping the dossier on his desk. "There must be some mistake… or the documents must be forged."

"The documents are authentic, and her appearance matches the pictures her school has on file," the DIS agent explained. "Sasaki-chan is verifiably Japanese."

Kano gave an annoyed huff and dropped back into the chair behind his desk. After years of working for the JSDF as an officer, then the Diet as a Minister, Kano had taken the post at the top of the Defense Intelligence Service with the assumption that it would be a slower, theoretically calmer job than being at the top of it all. For the most part, developments both on Earth and beyond the Gate were unsurprising; an extension of the geopolitics that put them into motion to begin with. Endless chains of action and reaction, and letting other departments sort out what to do with the information he provided.

But then new problems appeared, and people turned to him as if expecting that he could act as consultant, given his long and storied experiences versus the forces beyond the Gate, and the world powers at Hakone. The worst had been about two years ago when the Americans had unveiled what seemed to be an artificial Gate-based weapons delivery system, but his fears had been abated by the influx of international groups that could now poke and prod the Alnus Gate. Japan also still had access to Lelei La Leleina who could make Gates of her own… and act as a deterrent against America if they needed her for that in an emergency. On the other hand, magicians appearing out of the blue from the populace of Japanese citizens? As Hakone had demonstrated, the Americans could be held at bay with the right kind of power play and careful distractions, but placing dangerous abilities in the hands of unmarked citizens was a disaster waiting to happen.

This begged the question, "And where, exactly, did Sasaki-chan's powers come from?"

The DIS agent looked down at his notes, and hesitated, flipping back and forth between several pages. "We're not quite sure…" he said.

"Give me _something_ , no matter how crazy," Kano said. "I don't care if your assessment is a white rabbit handing out magic in exchange for wishes, _anything_ to get the Minister of Defense off my case."

"We know that Magic is controlled by the action of Unstable SR-Phizons in a human or demihuman brain," the DIS agent summarized. "We also know that these particles do not exist in significant densities on Earth to create magic casters, and that magic casters in the Special Region are a product of a lifetime consuming foods rich in Iron and Magnesium, which Phizons seem more attracted to than other elements."

"That can't be the case here," Kano said. "Even before the Gate opened for international trade last year, food products coming out of the Special Region have always been expensive and more praised for their novelty than their nutritional value. According to the report I just read, Sasaki-chan has a salaryman father and divorced mother who lives over in Nagasaki. Neither makes enough to be feeding their kid Special Region snacks for three meals a day. Is there another way the Phizons could have gotten in? What was her proximity to the Gate growing up?"

"She grew up in an apartment four blocks east of Ginza square," the DIS agent said. "She was in Primary School during the invasion… but the Gate itself does not give off magical abilities, otherwise we'd be seeing it manifesting in JSDF soldiers who have been over there longest, shouldn't we?"

Kano dropped his face into his hands. "We are still missing something. What I need is an expert."

"Mr. and Mrs. Coda and their son are currently vacationing in Hawaii," the agent said. "We could send someone to look for them."

"By the time we get through the bureaucracy with the FBI and CIA and actually send a man, Flat and Arpeggio will have already landed back in Narita. Is there no one else?"

"We can put through a satellite call to Ms. Leleina on Ichijima."

"And be snooped on by the USAF? No thanks."

But the idea of the satellites stuck in his head for some reason… which was when he realized, there _was_ another group of experts when it came to Special Region magic, and they were all in Japan. "I know who I need answers from," he said. "And for that, I need the phone number of Tsukuba Space Center."


	3. Chapter 2 - Trajectory

**Tsukuba Space Center, Japan**

Dr. Carol Dawson put down her cup of coffee, took another look at the diagram in front of her and shook her head. "Professor Youmei," she said with a sigh, "Even with the PPE's kilopower reactor, the LOP-G cannot take this kind of current draw on a regular basis. There has to be a more electrically efficient way of running a Phizon probe."

The NASA engineer was looking across the small lunch table to her JAXA counterpart, who was studying his own blueprints as he picked his way through a traditional bento box. Youmei was an older gentleman, much like NAOJ astronomy Professor Shirai, but where Shirai was usually quiet and even-keeled, Youmei was loud and boisterous. "And what else will be drawing so much power on a regular basis!?" Youmei complained. "Do your astronauts plan to run the electric propulsion system at all times? Or perhaps they plan on throwing a rock and roll concert?"

"I'm talking about _life support_. Water filtration, carbon removal, ammonia coolant regulation… all these things take power, not to mention the other experiments and the transmitters for real-time telepresence-"

"If your organization wishes to do telepresence for lunar surface rovers, you should be doing what China has already done and focus on high-bandwidth satellites in SSLO."

"If I may, Professor…" the voice that cut in belonged to Dr. Antony Leonovich Kuragin, who was acting as a representative for Roscosmos, the Russian space agency. Where Youmei came from Tokyo U, an academic institution, Kuragin came from the Russian Academy of Sciences, a state research institute closer to the American Fermilab in structure. His background was primarily in Space Weather, and he had made a name for himself in the scientific community by being the most prolific writer on SR-Phizons outside of Japan and the United States. Compared to Youmei, Kuragin was cooler, quieter, and exceptionally sly… a fact that Carol had been reminded of as he thoroughly crushed her in a series of Chess games. At the moment he was casually leaning back in his chair, cleaning a set of thin-rimmed glasses with a microfiber cloth. "I can't help but notice that the design is reliant on a powerful electromagnetic wave generator broadcasting across many frequencies. If we reduce the frequency scope and simply have the astronauts check a new frequency with each orbit, it should cut the current draw down to less than ten percent of what you're proposing."

Youmei snorted. "At that rate, the experiment won't complete a thorough survey for decades. The idea is to discover if the lunar polar craters host protected SR-Phizon reservoirs from orbit. If we do it your way, Astronauts will be touring the craters with their families before we achieve comprehensive results."

"We could start now," suggested a shaky and somewhat unsure voice from Carol's other side. Greta La Sareteian seemed to be struggling to break up a piece of salmon with a set of chopsticks. They had been working together on this project for the Lunar Orbiting Platform-Gateway for the past two years, but the girl (Carol still thought of that way in her head, even though she was clearly a full adult) was nervous about talking to others in the field. After all, she was an engineer that utilized magic, but wasn't capable of controlling magic herself. As a result, Greta often fretted over the fact that her knowledge was second-hand, and that she sometimes had to rush to teleconference with Arpeggio for answers.

"What do you have in mind?" Carol asked.

"If we have a sample of Phizons, we could use them as practice to isolate the signal frequencies that produce the response you're looking for. Since the Japanese portion of the LOP-G isn't going up for a few more years, we have plenty of time to isolate the best frequencies for Youmei's scanner."

Youmei burst out laughing. "Of course! Never underestimate the power of guess-and-check, eh?"

Kuragin shrugged. "It is still an open question as to whether or not Phizons exist on the moon at all. We could be going through all this trouble and still find nothing."

" _Comrade_ Kuragin," Youmei chided. "I get that you have a book coming out on space weather and Phizon scattering, but if we can find water ice at the lunar poles-"

He was stopped by a knocking at the door to the small conference room, and Carol looked over her shoulder to see someone she hadn't seen in ages; Takagi Sayo, in full uniform and a polite smile on her face. Carol waved her in, and after a quick exchange of pleasantries, Carol got to the point. "So what brings you here today?" she asked.

Takagi shot a nervous glance over to Kuragin who gave a loud snort and replied, "Ah, I get it, can't reveal government secrets in front of the possible KGB agent. Fine, I'll go-"

"Hang on," Carol said, holding up a hand. "Takagi, if this is about something related to the Special Region, you really should let Kuragin stay. You wouldn't be here if this wasn't about a science question, and Kuragin's knowledge on SR Phizons and space weather is second only to Professor Shirai… and he's catching up rapidly."

Takagi looked to Youmei for support, but the Japanese professor replied by saying, "I don't have security clearance anyway, so it can't be _that_ important, right?"

Outnumbered, the Intelligence Specialist shrugged and said, "We recently recovered evidence that large amounts of SR Phizons appearing in eastern Tokyo. As far as we are aware, they weren't smuggled over, they just happened to be there. My superiors were hoping you could give us somewhere to start on the cause."

It made immediate sense to Carol why they were being asked. The SR Phizon was a subatomic particle responsible for anything on the other side of the Gate that could be defined as magic. Spells cast by mages were quantum entanglement products of electrical currents run over Phizons in the caster's brain. Magical creatures like Fire Dragons used control over Phizons to help fly when aerodynamics showed that it should be impossible. The Focus Crystals that kept Greta's magic gliders aloft pooled the influence of multiple Phizon users across a wide area. The Gods of the Special Region themselves were each a consciousness evenly distributed over a planet's worth of Phizons. Everything came back to Phizons.

One key fact about Phizons was that they were susceptible to 'deactivation' through radiation. Kuragin theorized that radiation affected the quantum 'spin' of the particle, turning it into something else and rendering it useless in the creation of magic. The ongoing theory was that the world of the Special Region had been hit by less solar radiation in its evolution, so more Phizons survived, whereas the higher radiation environments of Earth meant that Phizons were too rare to produce magicians. The whole idea of the scanner they were building was to test Youmei's theory that comets out in the Kuiper Belt or Oort Cloud would have been exempt from the radiation that cleared Phizons from Earth, and that remnants of these comets could remain in shadowed craters in the lunar poles, given that water ice was known to exist on the moon. Kuragin thought he was full of shit, and had written a book arguing against it, but the two had agreed to work together to definitively disprove the other.

And now, a great deal of Phizons had shown up on Earth, more than ever should have been there naturally.

The four scientists all fidgeted as they thought about the problem before Youmei asked, "Is it possible it's always been there?"

"No."

"How do you know?"

"It has to do with evidence related to how we detected this to begin with," Takagi said. "I can't go into more detail than that."

Carol found herself looking down at her coffee and began to absentmindedly swirl the plastic straw around the cup. The easiest answer would have been, of course, that they were taken from the Special Region somehow. _A way of transporting large amounts of Phizons, without anyone being aware of it…_ it was a challenging problem, one that she felt she should know the answer to. After all, she had studied the gravity and atmospheric conditions of Alnus in detail, so if there was a natural means, it should have come up in a conversation at some point. Unless, of course, she had missed it. There were lots of things she had missed over the years, some of them very important.

Even now she struggled with everything that had happened on the other side of the Gate, especially what had happened to Greta. It was partially her own fault that Greta had been spirited away to a fortress island to work on a knockoff X-15 for most of a decade. That also made it her fault that Greta's right hand and forearm were paralyzed. She looked up for a moment and wondered what could have happened if she'd left Greta alone all those years ago…

Greta caught her mentor looking at her and offered a supportive smile. _No way,_ Carol thought. _Leaving Greta to rot in that bookstore would have been a crime._ If anything, Greta was the poster-child for those demanding the creation of academic visas for demihumans-the speed that she picked up new information put most humans to shame, and it was worth finding out if Greta was unusually bright, or if certain demihuman races actually learned faster than humans. Another demihuman, Ellie Fa Agne, was working at NASA-Glenn with SpaceX on a similar question. Dawson was an aerospace engineer, however, not a sociologist, and couldn't add anything objective to either side of that argument.

No, if there was anything she could have changed about her time in the Special Region, it would have been the final target for the Atom Bomb. Hearing that it had killed so many people, even if they were part of an enemy army, was deeply unsettling. _We should have aimed it at the sea,_ she thought. _It would have gotten Hardy anyway._ _With their particles distributed in the air, anywhere else would have worked._

Particles in the air...perhaps that was how they got from Alnus to Japan? Enough closed vehicles went back and forth over the years… but that was silly. The air in the Special Region was hardly thick with particle matter, and the amount of air carried back and forth within vehicles or at the bottoms of lungs of garrison soldiers would have been negligible. There would have to be a way to move a greater volume of air-again without being noticed-so that massive amounts of it would still be making its way into Tokyo. It wasn't like there was a giant hose or…

She looked down and realized that she had the answer in her hand the whole time. "Straws," she said.

"Begging your pardon?" Kuragin said.

"Straws. The Gate acts as a giant straw. This is a fluid dynamics problem."

Takagi narrowed her eyes at her. "I don't understand."

"Well, think about how a straw works. The low pressure in your mouth sucks a fluid out of a comparatively high-pressure cup. The Gate is acting as a bridge between two different pressure levels. If at any point the air in Tokyo is lower pressure than Alnus, air from the Special Region will get sucked through the Gate into Ginza, and distributed SR-Phizons along with it."

"The Special Region side of the Gate is in the Alnus Hills, which is at a higher altitude than Ginza," Takagi said, shaking her head. "This means that air should be flowing in the opposite direction; away from Earth, since air pressure is lower at higher altitudes. Even before we went through the Gate, there was a concern by the World Health Organization that something similar to what you're describing could be happening and bringing diseases from the other world along with it. You could almost say that the altitude and atmospheric pressure was the very _first_ thing we learned about Alnus because of this."

Kuragin's mood visibly brightened. He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, as he said, "Ms. Takagi, aren't you forgetting something important?"

Youmei, quickly catching on, snapped the fingers on his free hand. "Right, weather! The weather patterns on both sides of the Gate change from day to day, and if a storm hit Tokyo while the skies over Alnus were clear, it would be more than enough to flip the pressure the other way."

"Exactly," Carol said. "The average air pressure in Denver and Miami are within a dozen millibars of each other, despite over a mile of altitude difference. Compared to the difference between a high pressure cold front and the low driving a Nor'easter or Hurricane, that's easy to overcome. With Alnus, the altitude difference less than half that of the American cities I mentioned… more like Miami and Chicago."

"There's also the seasonal discrepancy," Greta added. "My home planet has less of an axial tilt than Earth, which means that the air pressure is slightly lower on the Earth side during Earth summers than it is on the Alnus side, which would make weather affects easier to notice." She tilted her head and added, "How long _did_ your organization spend monitoring Gate airflow?"

Takagi gave a resigned smile and said, "Okay, okay! I believe you. I'll let my superiors know, and we'll double-check the airflow situation."

As she stood to leave, Carol rose as well to stop her. "Did something happen?" the NASA engineer asked.

"Nothing that you need to be concerned about." Takagi tried to leave again and this time Carol placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Sayo," she said. "Last time you spoke that way, we wound up using you-know-what on you-know-who. We're all scientists here. If there's a global danger, _tell us_. We want to help."

Takagi said nothing for a while, clearly in thought, then faced Carol. "There is no danger," she said. "But if there was, you must understand that I wouldn't be able to say anything. Perhaps I will be able to tell you later, but for now… keep an eye out for news regarding the Fist of Twelve."

* * *

 **PSIA Kansai Regional HQ, Osaka, Japan**

At ten years old, Sasaki Ayaka had already made up her mind where she wanted her future to take her, and that was over the rail of the apartment building roof.

Even as a young girl, Ayaka had sensed something was wrong with the world. The fact that her father never came home, the fact that her mother rarely left the apartment outside of food and clothes shopping, the fact that all the adults in her life from her teachers, to store owners, to the people on the street spoke to her with the same dull eyes and plastered-on smile.

She didn't want that life, she didn't want that future, and she certainly didn't want to have to wear that fake smile. There were days where she'd stand on the roof or by the balcony and think, _tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll do it._

And then… a miracle happened.

In the middle of the schoolday, first one, then a dozen, then hundreds of alarms started up outside the school window. The teacher had instructed the people closest to the windows to close them (eliciting many groans, as it was the middle of summer outside), and as Ayaka moved to lower the one nearest her desk, she was forced back by the throaty rumble as a big helicopter painted military-green roared down the city street.

The teacher hardly had a moment to ask what was going on when every student's cellphone went off, each displaying the same text message.

EMERGENCY: ALL GINZA WARD RESIDENTS, STAY INSIDE. KEEP AWAY FROM DOORS AND WINDOWS. IF YOU ARE ON THE STREET, GET INSIDE IMMEDIATELY!

Some of the girls and more than one boy began to panic, and the teacher, wide-eyed and shivering, ordered the class into the central hallway. Other classes were starting to empty into the hall as well, and the teachers instructed everyone to sit against the walls and cover their heads with their arms. It was remarkably quiet, with the occasional mutter or click as a student or teacher checked their phones. From somewhere outside came the sound of an explosion, followed by gunfire.

But the miracle wasn't the rapid response of the JSDF, or the fact that she made it through unscathed, or even-as she later learned-that a Gate to another world had spontaneously appeared a few blocks away from her apartment building. All of these things paled in comparison to what she was witnessing.

The fake smiles were all gone. Students bunched together into tight groups to share information or hold hands or simply hold the ones who couldn't take it and were crying. Kids who normally fought or bullied each other were suddenly courteous and helpful, and even the teachers, who tended to encompass a whole spectrum of personalities, were supportive, or placed themselves by the doors or stairwells so they could respond first if something-or someone-came through there to hurt their charges. In less than a minute, all the pettiness, fakery, all vanished to be replaced by honesty, attentiveness, and a level of caring that Ayaka had never expected to see from this group of people.

Even after the emergency was lifted, it continued. The adults on the bus acted like the kids in her class; observant and caring. When the bus let her off and she walked to a JSDF barricade at the end of her street, one of the soldiers, seemingly cold and aloof when she saw them on TV, gave her a bow and a smile, and escorted her all the way back to her apartment building. Her father, who it felt like she never saw, had been released early from work to go back to his family, and he swept her into his arms the moment she walked in the door. On the television, one channel showed Chinese President Dechou lamenting the lives lost, another showed the UN Secretary General calling for immediate aid to be sent to the Ginza victims, and a third showed US President Dirrel ordering ships from Yokosuka to provide support… and promising to provide Japan with, "as many bombs, bullets, and bayonets needed to squash the idiots who dare attack one of our closest allies."

She spent the next few afternoons out on the balcony, watching as the JGSDF built their giant dome, and later attended the send-off as a hundred JSDF vehicles plunged into the Gate.

As the last truck vanished into the Gate, the miracle seemed to go along with it. The UN aid groups vanished. The at-first friendly Chinese and American leaders turned to demanding Japan allow them unrestricted access to the Gate. Her classmates went back to mocking and fighting amongst each other. Her father stopped coming home before her bedtime.

And always, always, those fake, empty smiles.

She wanted to scream at all of them _What's wrong with you!? Don't you remember what it was like? Don't you remember how it felt when everyone was there for each other?_

Almost unprompted, the world seemed to shout back at her, _It's important to get into a good university, Sasaki-chan! We're preparing you for corporate life, Sasaki-chan! You're going to make some man very happy someday, Sasaki-chan!_

By age fifteen, the urge to throw herself over the balcony was stronger than it ever was when she was young.

 _If only things could go back to how they were,_ she thought. _Whatever it was that came out of the Gate that day, I wish it would come back_.

So she turned to the internet message boards, learning every scrap of information she could find on the Special Region. She wasn't sure how much of it was true, or how much of it was even useful, she scoured it all until she found what she was looking for; magic and the Gods.

Apparently, Falmart had real gods; not those wood and metal figures that she bowed to on holidays, but living, thinking beings that could change their world. One of them, it was said, had even created the Gate itself.

Falmart also had magic. Rumors frequently cropped up online that Japan and the US were holding magicians in secret for study, and all kinds of stories were written about what Special Region magic was, and how it worked. After enough research, Ayaka saw a pattern and one afternoon, while her mother was out, she went up to the roof of her building, stretched out a hand, and _willed_.

Nothing happened, of course. She felt like some stupid _chunnibyou_. "Well," she muttered, "obviously if it was as simple a matter as waving your hand and shouting fire jet- _ahh!_ "

She yanked her hand away from the sudden gout of flames that had spontaneously appeared above it, and looked down at her hand in wonder. _No way,_ she thought. While she was curious, she was also terrified. _That's...not normal. What happened to me?_

Over the weeks, as she poked and prodded at a power she didn't really understand, she began developing a plastered-on smile of her own. When pestered by her classmates about going home early, she ignored them. When her parents asked why she was up on the roof so often, or where she went on the internet, she lied.

Nine months before the events at the warehouse, she had stumbled into an online forum about the Gods, the religion surrounding them, and what could be done to celebrate them on Earth. Ayaka replied with gusto, and after two months of conversations, the organizer reached out to her directly.

Yamata Keiji was older than Ayaka had expected, but she met him in a public place, so she was not immediately concerned. Besides, this was Japan, not some crime-ridden hellscape like America (if the cable news stations were to be believed) so the odds of something going drastically wrong were slim… at least as far as she knew. Yamata had brought with him a boy closer to Ayaka's age who was much easier to talk to, and told her about the Fist of Twelve, a group that aimed to be a voice for the Gods in Japan. After all, with the government and their "American masters" controlling the Gate, shouldn't the Gods have a word in how it was used?

She told them everything she'd seen at the Gate and offered to set up an unauthorized webcam so the members of the organization could keep an eye on it. She offered to help them organize protests or espionage against the JSDF. She was willing to travel and research and do all of this without speaking a single word to her parents about it.

She did not tell them about the magic.

Perhaps that was why Yamata-san had panicked when she'd used it against the police officers. The gunshots were louder than they had ever seemed in movies or on television, the sedatives they gave her were strange and uncomfortable, and when she woke up in a hospital bed, she was scared by the strange double-loop machine that had been strapped to her head.

Ayaka raised her hands to try and take it off, only for her hands to be halted by a pair of handcuffs.

"It won't hurt you."

She looked over to see the police officer with the wiry black hair and long coat, the one who had tried to talk her down before the shooting started. He was fidgeting with a cigarette in one hand-clearly he wanted to smoke, but this was a hospital and such things were not allowed in here. He stood and said, "The machine sitting next to your head is a Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation coil. It's centered above a certain portion of your brain and is triggered to go off if the computer detects that you're about to try and use magic. Best case scenario, you don't use magic. Worst case, you get a nasty seizure." He grinned and added. "And don't try and think you can trick the machine. Human brains know they're about to perform an action before human consciousness does. Weird quirk of neuroscience; no idea why it happens that way."

Ayaka let her hands fall back to the bed and looked away. Whatever he was about to say, she didn't want to hear it.

"I am Agent Komakado," he said, regarding her with the same, dull smile that every adult in her country seemed to wear. "I'd like to ask you some questions, Sasaki-chan.

"First, how long have you been a member of the Fist of Twelve?"

She said nothing.

"How long have you been able to use magic?"

She still said nothing.

"Can you tell me anything about the leadership of the organization?"

It didn't matter to her. It was all pointless now. She wanted to go home so she could end it all. Properly, this time.

"Would you like to visit the Special Region?"

 _That_ caught her off guard. She involuntarily started at the words, and while she tried to squelch the emotion, Komakado had clearly spotted her reaction.

"I think we should start again," he said, circling around to the other side of her bed, so he was looking down on her. "I'm here to tell you that you're going to be taken to the Special Region. This is not because you're being punished or imprisoned, it's because Japanese law doesn't have provisions for real-life Magical Girls, if you catch my meaning. You're going to be taken to people who can assess your abilities and teach you how to use them without injuring yourself and others. You are not being given a choice, because from my perspective, you already _have_ attempted to hurt yourself and others, and because the Ministry of Defense doesn't need someone like that in downtown Sannomiya, or Osaka, or Tokyo, or anywhere else."

"That still sounds like a prison to me," Ayaka muttered.

"Your parents will be informed that you were selected for a study abroad opportunity." Komakado leaned in and said. "I don't think you're aware how big of a mess you're in. You and your friend assaulted a combined team of police officers and government agents. Child-law or not, the alternative is that you go to prison for a long, long time. This is the best option you're going to get, so I suggest you take it."

He stood up and backed up to lean against the wall. "So now that that's out of the way, like I said, let's start again. What can you tell me about the Fist of Twelve? Your silence is meaningless, because we captured all of your associates, and we will have control over your computer systems by the end of the day, so just tell me. Any information you provide will be rewarded with additional spending money during your time beyond the Gate."

Ayaka weighed her options. On the one hand, the people she'd met through the group seemed like fair people. They were just as tired with Japanese society as she was, and were desperate for a change. She had no desire to help Agent Komakado enforce his precious little _status quo_. On the other hand, if what he was saying was true, then they were all already doomed.

So she took a middle ground. "I know _nothing_ that you people would find useful. We communicated through forums and username handles and messenger apps. Yamata-san was higher up in the organization, and I don't know where he came up with his ideas from, or where the computers or equipment came from. You're wasting your time with me."

Komakado raised an eyebrow. "See? That was easy. If I need anything else, I'll be in touch."

With that, he reached into his coat and pulled out a live audio recorder, which he flicked a button on to stop, then headed for the door.

"Wait!" Ayaka called after him, struggling against the restraints. "What about the Gate!?"

Komakado shrugged and said, "My part is over. You'll have to take up the details with the JSDF," and left.

Ayaka collapsed back into the bed. If what the agent said was true, she was finally going to go through the Gate, albeit as a prisoner.

She found it hard to believe though. What if what she wanted _wasn't_ on the other side of the Gate? What if the JSDF had found it and shot it all up?

Either way, she decided then and there that she would keep looking until she found it, JSDF and magicians be damned.

Maybe if she did, Komakado would no longer regard her with same fake smile.


	4. Chapter 3 - Orientation

**PSIA Kansai Regional HQ, Osaka, Japan**

Komakado had known going into the interview that Ayaka was probably not the Kansai-area ringleader for the Fist of Twelve. After all, it was standard practice for the PSIA to obtain a warrant and search a person's communications history before attempting an actual interview. Ms. Sasaki had some curious interests, and a brief RDP session into her family's home computer revealed little that he wouldn't expect to see on the account of a teenage girl.

Mr. Yamata was another story. His home machine was little more than a remote terminal for a virtual machine being hosted at the Kansai location… and the server at Kansai was part of an elaborate private network. At the moment, Takagi was overseeing a group of Cyberwarfare engineers as they took apart the servers and network switches in an attempt at getting at the configuration files. Talking to the ISP for the warehouse hadn't revealed much either; the Kansai server was apparently talking to its associates through a proxy server in Bulgaria, and while INTERPOL had promised to lend a hand, Komakado was expecting a dead end.

"Yamata is not a network engineer," Takagi said. "Someone must have explained to him how to set up these servers, or sent instructions. My men are sweeping the warehouse and his apartment, but if there's a clue as to where information we need is located, it must come from Yamata himself."

Which was why Komakado was now looking at the gang member through a one-way mirror. Yamata had an irritated scowl on his face as he waited, and bloodied bandages around the places where Takagi had shot him gave him a monstrous appearance. "Do we have any angles on this guy?" he asked.

"Virtually nothing," Takagi said. "He's a salaryman from Osaka. No significant relatives. Was an older Otaku back around that first time Rory, Tuka, and Lelei visited the Diet… so I guess it's an improvement?"

"Can he use magic too?"

Takagi shook her head. "Magical adepts are already a rare in the Special Region, and Yamata never lived near the Gate. Based on what I've learned from the people I talked to and population density maps, I estimate that there's a maximum of one or two other adepts in or around that portion of Tokyo, and another forty to fifty that could probably use magic if we handed them a Focus Crystal. Military Intelligence is compiling records and developing a testing procedure as we speak."

 _One more thing to worry about._ Komakado sighed and said, "So, do you want to be the Good Cop or the Bad Cop?"

"I think I'm going to observe the professionalism of an elder in silent awe."

Komakado smirked and said, "Fine. Feel free to interrupt me once you have what you need." With that, he turned a corner and strode into the interrogation room.

Yamata got off the first volley. "Your actions are abhorrent to the gods."

"And your actions have been abhorrent in general," Komakado said. "We have a mountain of evidence showing you extorting teenagers and young adults into sponsoring or aiding terrorist actions, including a planned IED attack on the Gate facility in Ginza."

"It's the will of the Gods," Yamata proclaimed. "I am only their instrument."

Komakado folded his arms and said, "You may be too young to remember the Tokyo Subway Sarin attacks by Aum Shinrikyo. Would you like to know what happened to the leader of _that_ particular episode? He was hung by the neck until dead. Right now, you're facing charges for terrorism, attacking officers of the law, criminal financial actions, extortion, and much, much more. Perhaps if this was America, you'd get away with being a non-law civilian in possession of any kind of firearm, but this is Japan, and you will be charged with that as well.

"What we haven't decided on yet is whether or not to charge you with International Espionage, so tell me, who are you getting your orders from?"

Yamata smiled. "I get my orders from the highest powers—"

"I don't give a damn about your Gods, I want a name and a place of someone real. Who set up your network? Who gave you your equipment?"

"Nonbelievers would not understand—"

But Komakado had already had enough. He raised one of Yamata's bandaged arms and pressed hard into the wound.

The gang leader let out an unmanly shriek before shouting, "I am a Japanese citizen and I demand a lawyer!"

"Funny time to start talking sense. I thought you were supposed to be a citizen of the Gods, or something. Give me a name and a place."

"I want a lawyer!"

"Then clear yourself of suspicion for espionage! You don't get it, Yamata- _kun_ , under the Geneva Convention, we can do whatever the heck we want to spies! You want a lawyer, prove that you're not a spy! Name and place!"

Yamata winced away from the man, but Komakado wouldn't let him go. "I don't know!" the man shouted. "I was contacted over a Japanese server, and—"

"Then give me the logon passwords for your firewall and VPN!"

"But my master—"

"Your master isn't here. You answer to ME."

Yamata, tear trails starting to form on his face, said, "Fine! The login…"

The agent listened to it, then repeated it aloud for the room recorders. When he was finished, Yamata still had the gall to ask if he could talk to a lawyer before Komakado slammed the door in his face.

"That was fast," Takagi said.

"You thought it would take longer?"

"The Americans and Russians from Ginza after Hakone were traded back before they cracked. The Chinese agents took almost a year and a half before we got anything." Takagi shook her head. "Yamata clearly isn't trained to resist interrogation. We're looking for a handler."

A telephone on the wall went off, and Takagi rushed over to pick it up. "Yes?"

Komakado watched as the Intel Specialist took in the information. He mouthed "Network?" to her and she nodded. "Yes, yes. Understood. Thank you."

She placed the phone back on the receiver, looked back towards Komakado and said, "We've got them."

"Where?"

"Ho Chi Minh City."

* * *

 **Alnus, the Special Region**

Ayaka was expecting her first view of the world beyond the Gate to be a beautiful, scenic view of ancient structures, people in beautiful cultural clothes, and a clear air and sky.

What she got instead was the side of a tractor-trailer, which was blasting its horn at some other vehicle as it tried to maneuver, and rain drizzling from a sky that was nighttime seven hours too early.

It had been like this through the entire experience. Once a military installation, the Gate in Ginza was now a massive customs and border control checkpoint, and they had sat in a massive traffic jam as guards went over the JSDF truck to make sure that nothing dangerous was being smuggled into the Special Region. They had then driven for what felt like an hour through the eerie blackness of the Gate itself, staring up the rear of a giant container truck hauling gasoline or kerosene or whatever merited the flammable chemicals sticker on the back.

The JSDF soldiers monitoring her didn't talk much, and whatever they had to say was often short and to the point. Sure, they had seemed nice enough at first, until the lady with the JSDF dress uniform said, "This one has access to magic and is being transported as a criminal suspect. You are authorized to shoot her if she becomes dangerous."

Of course, Ayaka had no desire to get shot, and even less of a desire to use magic in front of these people. No, she'd hold onto it until she was somewhere she could run, and then…

Eventually they reached a processing building and the soldiers ushered her out to a receptionist who handed her a plastic card on a lanyard. It featured her picture, name, birthdate, height, eye color, and a bright orange stripe with bold text in Japanese, English, and Imperial: ADEPT. "You are required to wear this prominently at all times while staying at Alnus," the receptionist said. "Using magic without first verifying with the Magic Safety Administration automatically doubles the maximum charges of any offenses committed with its use."

Finally, the truck was driven out of the JSDF base. For a moment, Ayaka got excited—finally, the new world! She pressed her face up against the truck's plastic tarp window and saw…

A strip mall.

She looked back at the soldiers in confusion and they gestured for her to get out again. Late at night as it was, the mall was mostly empty, but it pushed Ayaka to spin in place, trying to pick a sign of something, _anything_ in the evening skyline that would suggest that she was in another world, and got _nothing._ The moon was barely a sliver of a crescent, and the streetlights were too bright to see the stars. In the distance, she could see the blinking red lights of tall radio masts or electricity poles. The tallest building nearby was a four-story modern cement and wood-aesthetic building with the glowing blue letters MARRIOTT featured prominently at the top. They might as well have gone to Kobé.

 _What was going on?_

The soldiers ushered her into a cheap clothing store and gave her a budget and time limit. Maybe this would have been an interesting experience for some other girl, but not her. She picked up a number of articles of clothing, walked hurriedly towards the women's dressing room at the back, and promptly dropped everything and threw herself against the inventory room door at the rear of the store.

The soldiers were too slow to respond, and she gambled on the idea that they wouldn't shoot at a high school girl, regardless of how dangerous their commanding officer said that she was. Much to her delight, it was almost a straight shot to the loading dock at the rear of the building, and she raced off into the evening as quickly as her legs could carry her.

 _There has to be some kind of mix-up_ , she thought. _This clearly isn't Alnus, this has to be some government trick, or maybe…_

"Thank heavens, you're just in time!" Ayaka stopped dead in her tracks at the voice that shouted at her, and turned to see a rabbit-woman demihuman running in her direction. Ayaka didn't have much experience with foreigners, demihumans least of all, and had always wanted to talk with one, but this really wasn't the time.

"I'm sorry, but—" Ayaka started but the woman grabbed her by the wrist, with unexpected force, excitedly declaring "This way!"

The soldiers had to be looking for her at this point. She looked up, expecting to see the tell-tale blinking lights of a drone or hear the sound of a siren, but there was nothing. _What's going on?_

Eventually they found themselves over by the edge of the Marriot hotel building, where the Warrior bunny pointed directly up.

Standing on the edge of the roof was the figure of another human, clearly in distress, waving and exclaiming towards someone else on the roof. "He threatened to jump," the woman exclaimed. "I called Magical Services as quickly as i could, told them it was an emergency…" only now did the demihuman give her a nervous look and added, "You can catch him, right?"

Playing around with fire was one thing, but catching someone using magic? She'd never tried anything like that before and the last time she'd tried starting a fire larger than her forearm, she had injured herself. Even then, fire was the only thing she knew how to make, and she'd done it completely by accident the first time. What if, instead of catching him, she burnt him to a crisp?

 _He wouldn't expect that, would he?_ she thought with a moment of grim humor. She decided to tell the demihuman the truth… at least a little of it. "Um… my background is fire, so—"

Apparently that was enough, and the woman shouted, "I requested someone with _Wind_ experience! Call your dispatcher right now and tell him it's an emergency!"

Ayaka's cellphone had been taken by the JSDF, of course, so she had no way to call anyone, even if she wanted to. "I'm sorry, I can't—"

Before she could finish, she heard a shout, and looked up to see the man on the building teeter over, lose his footing, and fall.

Ayaka had spent time contemplating doing such a thing before, but actually seeing it—the shape of a man plummeting to the ground—turned her blood to ice, and her hands flew up to her mouth as she tried to suppress the alarmed shriek forcing its way out of her lungs. In the final fraction of a second she shut her eyes and turned her head away, her body tensing against the inevitable crunch of bones hitting the pavement.

It never came.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and turned to look back in the direction of the building and saw the man suspended centimeters above the ground, trembling against a shock that never happened, his body surrounded by a bluish energetic aura. _Magic._

 _Did I do that?_ Ayaka wondered, but decided against it. Creating fire had a different feeling to it, almost a sort of assertion or sense of direction. Did different kinds of magic feel differently?

"I have him," said a voice behind her, and Ayaka looked over her shoulder.

The mage had flowing white and pale green robes covered in blue lines and geometric patterns, and held a long white staff tiped by a teardrop-shaped crystal. Her hood obscured her face, but it was obvious enough from her figure and voice that it was a female mage that had saved the jumper from a gruesome death.

With a wave of her arms, the mage cancelled her spell and the man fell the last few inches to the ground. 'Thanks!" The bunny-woman shouted, then ran over to secure the man, now cowering on the pavement.

Ayaka wasn't sure what to do next, so she offered mage a bow, said, "Thank you for your help," and was about to run off again when the mage placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"Sasaki Ayaka-chan?"

Ayaka felt as if the mage had hit her with a bolt of lightning. Who was this? How did they know her name? Whoever it was, they had to be in cahoots with the JSDF, and that meant it was time to run again. "I'm sorry!" She said, trying to slip from the magician's grip, "You must have someone else—"

"You're lying."

Each of the magician's statements so far had been short and terse, yet had a strange monotony to them that made it hard for Ayaka to determine precisely what her captor's feelings were. "Let me go!" She shouted. "Let me go or I'll burn you!"

The mage did just that, and for a fraction of a second, Ayaka sprinted away in terror before crashing to a sudden halt. The thing that she hit was invisible, and on scrambling back to her feet she stuck her hand out to test it and found whatever it was to be tough, but not hard, like a gym mat. She turned around and saw the mage, standing there, staring at her. Ayaka held up her bandaged arm and said, "I swear, I'll do it. I'll set you on fire!"

The mage seemed to consider her for a moment, then said, "Okay."

"Okay!?"

"Yes. Set me on fire."

So Ayaka tried. She reached out in the way she'd discovered and _pushed._ A gout of fire appeared at her fingertips, then died.

The mage did not move.

"That was a warning!" Ayaka promised. "I'll do it, I swear!"

Ayaka detected the barest hint of a sigh from the mage, who took a step forward.

The burst of flame was much larger this time, and for one terrifying moment, Ayaka thought that she had succeeded, but was shocked to see the jet of flame redirected up and harmlessly into the sky. She took a step back, unsure, and was equally shocked when a robed hand reached through the fire and grabbed her wrist. The shock was enough to break her concentration, and the flames vanished.

"Bad technique," the mage said. "Bad fundamentals too. You could set yourself on fire. Is that why your arm is bandaged?"

"Why do you care!?"

"General Kengun asked me to help you, and so I shall."

It was at that point that she finally took off her hood, and Ayaka found herself staring at a familiar face. The turquoise eyes and electric blue hair were unmistakable.

Ayaka stopped resisting immediately. If she was correct, the person holding her was one of the most powerful magicians in the Special Region, partially due to her position as the most informed person with regards to 'magic' both as a Falmart practice and an Earth science. "How did you find me?" Ayaka asked.

Lelei La Lalena pointed at the identification badge hanging from a lanyard on Ayaka's neck. "I tracked that." She turned and said, "Let's go back to the JSDF."

"What if I say no?"

"Okay." She started to walk.

For a moment, Ayaka stood there, confused. Lelei couldn't actually be letting her go, just as she hadn't actually allowed herself to be set on fire. _I guess when you have that kind of power, it doesn't matter what other people say or think. If I don't move, she'll probably lift up that staff and have me dragged along by magic._ She sighed and fell into line behind Lelei.

The streets were quiet, and as Ayaka peeked around the older mage to get a look at her expression, all she caught was a bland look, directed down into a Samsung smartphone as she walked. Ayaka wasn't sure what was on the display, but assumed that it was an article of some kind.

"Umm… I'm sorry about the fire," Ayaka said.

Lelei nodded, as if it wasn't all that important. Perhaps to her, it wasn't.

"And I wanted you to know, I'm a big fan of your work. You have lots of fans in Japan, and there's a whole group of webcams set up around Tokyo bay that try to catch a glimpse of whenever you open up Gates for the ships to go through. If I'd known it was you, I wouldn't have attacked, so I'm really, really sorry!"

She gave a deep bow for further emphasis.

Lelei did not look up from her phone and kept going. "Okay," she said.

The single word from Lelei was as crushing as any response could have been. _Okay, okay, okay… is that how she reacts to everything?_ The mage seemed nonplussed by the whole incident, and Ayaka was increasingly under the impression that she was talking to a robot instead of a person… no, even that wouldn't be accurate. Alexa, Cortana, Google, and Siri sounded chipper when they talked back. Perhaps talking to a tree would be a better comparison; you knew it was alive, but it gave no indication that it actually cared about your words.

Minutes later they were back at the strip mall and clothing store, where the JSDF soldiers were waiting patiently, as if the entire situation had been planned from the start. Perhaps it was? Either way, they gave Lelei a respectful bow, and gestured Ayaka to go back into the store and try again.

After picking out a few simple garments, she returned to find a soldier in a slightly dressier uniform, who was holding a seemingly pleasant, if quiet conversation with Lelei. On seeing Ayaka, he turned, gave her a fake smile and a short bow and said, "A pleasure to meet you, Sasaki-chan. I am Warrant Officer Tomita Akira, and I'll be handling your case during your stay in the Special Region. I assume that Komakado-san did not give you many details, is that correct?"

Ayaka nodded, but said nothing. Now wasn't the time, particularly not with Lelei's dead-fish stare watching her every move.

"Most magicians in the Special Region are detected early, and they have a culture of other magicians to support them and their abilities," Tomita explained. "We don't have a support system like that in Japan, so instead we brought you here to go through the traditional Falmart system of magic education. We'll be observing your progress and getting regular notes from your teacher, and hopefully we'll learn how to handle cases like yours in the future domestically."

Try as she might, Ayaka couldn't hold back the frown forming on her face. More observations, more tests, another school. This was _not_ what she had hoped to experience beyond the Gate.

"Sasaki-chan?"

"So I'm to be your pet, is that what you're saying? I am your lab animal?"

Tomita winced at the statement. In Japanese society, it was unusual for a younger person to snap at an older person like that, and Ayaka knew it. Too bad. "No, that's not it." Tomita said. "We just want to help, that's all."

"I don't want your help. I want you and all your fake friends to leave me alone so I can find something real."

Tomita raised an eyebrow. "Something real? Like what?"

"Like—" Ayaka struggled to put it into words, and seethed at the thought that Tomita probably found this funny. "Like whatever happened to everyone when the Gate opened."

Tomita frowned, and this made her feel better somehow. He didn't get it either; none of the other adults really did, so it wasn't a big surprise. Ayaka turned to Lelei and said, "How about you, can you tell me where to find something like that?"

Lelei blinked, slowly, once.

"Okay."

Ayaka felt her guts do a somersault as her body tried to figure out how to respond to that. Excitement—did she really know? Anger—how could she approach something this important with such nonchalance? Confusion—there was no way in hell that someone like Lelei could get what she was talking about. She wanted to scream at and hug Lelei and punch her in the face all at the same time, and all these feelings crashed into each other and came out as a weak croak. "L-liar."

"I will take you to someone who can help you," Lelei said. "In return, you will apply yourself to studying magic."

So this was the carrot to the JSDF's stick? Ayaka sighed. "My teacher will be told about this?" She asked.

Tomita laughed. "You haven't figured it out yet? Lelei is going to be your teacher. Actually, you might like to know that she volunteered for the role and insisted on getting it! Damn near stormed Kengun's office once we put out the memo."

And once again, Ayaka found herself turning on open-mouthed confusion back towards Lelei's blank expression. The most famous mage on Earth had asked for her specifically, and had come all the way out to Alnus to meet with her as soon as she arrived. "Why?"

Lelei didn't smile, but Ayaka thought she could see the woman's eyes widen a little, and the side of her mouth turn up a fraction of a degree.

She said, "I want to learn too."


	5. Chapter 4 - TLI Burn

**THE NEXT MORNING**

 **Alnus, The Special Region**

Lelei was waiting in the hotel lobby when Ayaka awoke the next morning. The magician nodded a greeting, then gestured for Ayaka to follow. "Don't I need to get my things?" She asked.

"No," Lelei said.

"Aren't we going somewhere special for training?"

"No."

"Then where are we going?"

"Breakfast."

The streets of Alnus were substantially busier during the day, with the tractor trailers of the day before giving way to a stream of Isuzu trucks for navigating the narrower streets of the city. If it weren't for the occasional demihuman, Ayaka could have felt like she was walking through suburban Yokohama. New buildings were going up everywhere, vendors lined the streets, and one particularly large building a few blocks off boasted a large electronic billboard which was running a shampoo advertisement.

Ayaka wondered where precisely Lelei was taking her, and hoped that it would be somewhere interesting and traditional. She had never traveled outside of Japan, but some of the people from school who had traveled to places like Singapore or America claimed that foreign foods tasted different, even compared to restaurants in Japan that claimed to make the same thing. She hadn't been able to get her hands on any Special Region specialties, but she had heard amazing stories—

"We're here," Lelei said.

Ayaka looked up, and her heart sank so fast she feared it would drop out of her chest.

They were standing in front of a Denny's. It had the same regularly pointed roof, garish architecture had seen at home, and ads in the windows claimed, "Now an interplanetary restaurant chain! Serving thirteen countries plus the Special Region!"

Her appetite instantly vanished, but before she could protest, Lelei was already pushing the front doors open.

The inside was just what Ayaka had come to expect, with only minor irregularities The booth they sat in was normal sized, but the one behind them was resized for larger demihumans. The menu she received was printed in Japanese, English, and Imperial. The warrior bunny that waited on them spoke in accented Japanese, but otherwise relayed the lines Ayaka had come to accept in any restaurant. "Welcome to Denny's." "Can I start you with a drink?" "Today's special is…"

After the waiter left, Lelei said, "Teach me how to use magic."

"Huh?" Ayaka gave her a confused look. "I thought it was supposed to be the other way around."

Lelei tilter her head down ever so slightly. "I want to know what you already know or believe."

"Well, I…" she didn't actually know what she was doing and she looked around, as if expecting someone to call her out on it, but the restaurant was mostly empty, and the only one paying attention was Lelei, who calmly waited for her to begin.

"It's sort of like…" Ayaka stumbled, trying to come up with the right words. "...have you ever had a really bad insult slip out of your mouth before you realized what you're doing? It's like that. You start thinking about the thing you want to do, and then you go as if you're about to say the words, and then the magic just slips out."

She watched Lelei for a reaction, but the magician barely did as much as blink. Her huge aquamarine eyes made Ayaka feel like she was staring into a big, empty computer monitor.

"I know that if you use it too much you get tired, and if you get distracted, even for a fraction of a second, it goes out of control or stops working altogether," Ayaka continued. "So it's best to keep it small, otherwise…" she looked down at her bandaged arm and said nothing more.

Seemingly satisfied, Lelei nodded just once. "Have you tried making anything other than fire?"

Ayaka shook her head. "I tried ice once, but it looked really sharp and I got scared after the fire. I might have also tried wind… or maybe that was just the feeling of waving my arms around. I don't know, and I wasn't ready to mess with it while so many people were around."

"Good. Safety is important."

Their drinks arrived first, two cups of tea, and after taking a few sips Lelei said, "There are two ways to talk about magic; the old way and the new way. Both ways are important, and neither tells the whole story, which is why it's good to talk about both."

"Should I be taking notes?" Akaya asked.

"If you understand the general idea, it should be enough."

Lelei took the silverware out of her place setting, unrolled the napkin, and placed it on the center of the table. "For out purposes, this is the universe as we experience it. This is the universe of three axes of movement and time."

Next, she placed a saltshaker on the napkin. "Most of the things creatures interact with are observed in these four dimensions. However, just because we can sense four dimensions, does not mean that there cannot be more."

This time, Lelei pressed down on the saltshaker and started to turn it. Beneath it, the napkin began to twist, the forces pulling even to the outer edges of the cloth. "Magic is, put simply, the ability to influence one of the unseen dimensions. Depending on how these influences manifest into the visible world, they are given special names; aether, sether, kether, feither and a handful of others that are used less often and not worth mentioning. Sether influence can make things rise or sink, kether can make things expand or contract, and so on."

It was the most that Lelei had said at once in their entire interaction. _Is that how she works,_ Ayaka wondered, _short or long responses only?_ "And what makes it do all of that?" Ayaka asked.

"What makes forwards forwards and backwards backwards? There is no known reason for these things to exist, but they do exist, and so we have labeled them."

Ayaka nodded. The alternate dimension thing didn't match with anything she learned about in school. It sounded more like something from a late-night anime… but then again, the Gate had once sounded like a thing from a late-night anime. "But then how do you control these things if you can only experience the world in four dimensions?"

"Those with the ability can do so. For the longest time, that is all we knew… until the Gate opened."

Lelei leaned away from the table and looked out the window, a faraway look on her face. Ayaka wondered what in particular she was thinking back towards.

"Natural Philosophy on Earth evolved differently from how it was in Falmart," Lelei said. "On your world, no one had the ability to manipulate the non-visible dimensions, and so your sciences were written around the idea of Cause and Effect. Every effect must have a cause, and that cause must be detectable though observable means. Yanagida once asked me what magic was, and I told him what I told you, to which he immediately replied, 'Yes, but what _is_ it? What makes it go?' We could not answer. It was not until the Americans stumbled upon an explanation that the other side of Magic came into focus."

"We now enter into the newer theory of magic." Lelei pointed back at the salt shaker. "The Earth scientists are right, of course. Every effect has a cause. For magic, that cause happens to be the motion of an electro-chemical current over a particle called an SR-Phizon. It is the interaction of SR-Phizons in a magic caster's brain and the synapses of the surrounding neurons that controls the magical process. Specific brain electrical patterns stimulate the Phizons in ways that result in manipulation of the various dimensional forces through quantum entanglement."

"So this… particle… is inside my head?"

"Yes."

"How did it get there?"

"Phizons are more likely to bond with certain metallic elements. In the Special Region, it is a combination of consuming foods and fluids that have these elements, and a random quirk of physiology that allows Phizons to be transported to the correct portion of the brain. At the last census, about one in every eight thousand has the right physiology to do it without assistance—we call these magical adepts— and one in every two hundred can do it with the aid of a Focus Crystal. You are an adept, presumably Earth's first. Congratulations."

"But why weren't there any other people like me before?" Ayaka asked. "There should be thousands of magicians on Earth!"

"Earth does not have SR-Phizons because it had too much radiation in its past," Lelei said. "Phizons are sensitive to radiation and become dispersed if exposed—which is to say that a magician exposed to radiation cannot use magic until the SR-Phizons have built up in their brain again. A magician exposed to a great deal of radiation might have trouble retaining SR-Phizons in the future, and may be forced to use Focus Crystals, or may lose the ability entirely."

"If all of this is true," Ayaka said, "Why _can_ I use magic?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes! I never asked for this! I was never supposed to—"

"You misunderstand the question. You have the ability. That fact cannot be changed. You are a magic adept."

"It's just…" Ayaka placed her face in her hands. It all came back to the same issues, didn't it? "It's just that I wish I had a choice."

Lelei nodded. "You want something 'real'."

Ayaka sighed and dropped her hands. "I'm sorry. Thank you, your explanation has been very enlightening. I see why you took us here."

"That is not why I took us here."

"Really? Then why?"

"I like the pancakes."

* * *

 **Tokyo, Japan**

Carol wasn't a fan of formal events but, like most academics, she had long ago resigned herself to the understanding that galas lead to networking, networking lead to contacts, and contacts lead to grant money or congressional support.

That said, this particular event was going to be more amusing than usual because Greta had never been to one before. Sure, she had been to a few during her time in the Special Region, and plenty of formal lectures on Earth, but never a black-tie affair. As they stepped out of the car, Greta continued to fret over her gown. "Does it really look okay?" She insisted, "I knew I should have gone with the one with sleeves, they're all going to stare at me…"

"Greta, your arm is the last place they're going to be looking." One remarkable trait about Special Region demihumans was how little they visibly aged after reaching maturity. Greta, for instance, was twenty-four in Earth years, which translated to about thirty-six years for her particular variety of demihuman. Despite this, she still had the body of a young university student...and she had looked that way ever since Carol had met her nearly a decade ago. If anything, it made _Carol_ feel self-conscious about the grey creeping into her hair. She also knew that she wasn't the only person who felt that way. Cosmetics and pharmaceutical companies had dumped so much money into demihuman youthfulness research that the Warrior Bunnies had founded a whole city on money offered for tissue studies.

Of course, neither of these things meant much to Greta. She was more preoccupied with the robotic frame that granted some control over her wrist and hand back. She had taken pains to hide the control module and battery pack in the folds of the gown, and swapped out the ordinarily black wiring with something flesh-colored to make it less noticeable, but Carol could understand her protégé's discomfort. She took Greta's other hand and said, "Trust me, once you're in there, you won't even be thinking about it."

The Gala in question was for industry and academic leaders working with technology based on Special Region findings. While most of the invitees were Japanese, there were a number of foreigners as well; mostly Chinese, Koreans, Americans, and a few Arabs. Across the main hall, Carol spotted Professor Hitoshi Shirai and got his attention with a wave.

The astronomer excused himself from the person he was talking to and rushed over. Carol was used to seeing him in casual or field gear in the Special Region, and he looked somewhat out of place in a two-piece suit. "Dr. Dawson and Ms. Sareteian!" He exclaimed. "I was hoping to see you here! Youmei has been filling my ears about you two; you've been busy!"

Carol laughed. "Hopefully he had good things to say. Congratulations again on the Nobel! There's a huge movement in the Planetary Society to get you on a speaking tour of the States, and I've had a dozen colleagues from NASA say how jealous they are of you!"

"I'll have to consider it! Any insider information on the moon project?"

Greta looked back to Carol for confirmation, who shrugged, so she replied, "It's getting there. There's only so much we can tell with pictures from the LRO mission, but Youmei is still optimistic about our chances."

Shirai made a face and shook his head. "I still think Kuragin is on the right side of the argument. All the current theories on the moon's evolution suggest that it was created after the sun entered Main Sequence fusion, and even comets landing in shadowed craters would have been exposed to the same melting action we see on— ah, but now I'm ranting on boring topics. You two go have fun! I just spotted Professor Urushibata and want to catch him before he locates the Saké."

As he rushed away again, Carol nodded towards the rest of the room and said, "Greta, if you want to mingle on your own, I won't stop you."

"No thanks," Greta said.

"Why? Maybe you'll meet a rich young entrepreneur—"

"I encountered my fair share of young nobles at the Imperial Ball, back when I was running the IAG for Pina," Greta said. "They all struck me as drunk or stupid or uninterested in the world beyond how it could aid their own holdings."

"Then run after Shirai! Maybe he'll introduce you to a nice graduate student."

"Well…"

Greta swallowed the rest of the line. _Maybe she's just shy?_ Carol wondered. She had pressed Greta few times about her dating life on Ichijima and gotten nothing, and additional prodding found her not particularly involved with anyone from JAXA. "In that case, let's put something in your system to boost your confidence."

"Um… that's a bad idea…"

"I'll keep an eye on you. Promise!"

Admittedly, Greta still looked dubious about the whole thing, and Carol understood why. Most demihumans, Greta's species included, had accelerated metabolisms, and as a result became intoxicated significantly faster than humans. Granted, they also sobered up faster, but this didn't reduce the humor of Earth people at seeing demihumans get completely smashed over a single shot of whiskey. The Japanese had gone so far as to refer to it as " _Rōdokiru_ ", to borrow from the English term.

At the bar, Carol made a suggestion to Greta and told the bartender to go light and add lots of ice before noticing the other person immediately to her right.

"Captain Itami?"

Itami Youji looked up from his cellphone and took a moment to recognize them both. "Greta, and… Dawson, right? And it's just Itami. I'm a contractor now."

"Finally had enough of the JSDF?" Carol asked.

Itami shook his head. "The army's not like that. You never really get out, even if you say you are. It stays with you. Being a contractor means that I make better money, I pick my hours, and I have a bit more freedom when it comes to what I can and can't do. It lets me still help the guys with less of the bullshit."

"It also means that I see him more often," declared a short woman on Itami's other side. She had short brown hair and glasses, and her face had been stuck in a cellphone as well.

"This is…?"

"Oh, right. This is Aoi Risa. She's an old friend of mine."

"I wrote a manga called _Watashi no imōto no yūjin ga watashi o pūru ni shōtai shimashita_ ," she said. "Maybe you've heard of it?"

Carol tuned out the moment she heard the word _imoto_ in the title. "It sounds vaguely familiar. I'll have to look it up," she said, trying to be polite.

Risa waved the idea away. "You strike me as someone who reads Regency romances, you wouldn't like it. Speaking of romances, maybe you can help Itami come up with a decision?"

"On what?"

"On which member of his fantasy harem to settle with."

On Carol's other side, Greta sprayed her drink back into her glass, caught between laughter and coughing. Clearly out of the loop, Carol looked to Risa for some explanation, but she waggled an eyebrow in Itami's direction. The soldier rolled his eyes and said, "I told you, it's all business—"

"So you're not—" Carol tried and Risa cut her off.

"I'm his 'It's Complicated.'"

"So he actually—"

"Let's see," Rise said, counting off on her fingers. "There's the mage, the apostle, the elf, the _other_ elf, the Empress, and I heard something about mermaids—"

"Okay, _okay,_ " Itami said. "Maybe there's a _few_ people chasing after me over there, but my focus is my team and my job."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Would you like to sell me Tokyo Tower while you're at it?"

Adding to the point, Greta leaned over and whispered in Carol's ear, "There's an office pool going on Ichijima. I have three Sinku on Tuka."

"And this isn't creating a giant geopolitcal hassle?" Carol asked. "I mean, most of those people are pretty well-connected."

Itami actually thought about that one for a minute, long enough for the other two women to stop giggling, before saying, "I worry about that, sometimes. If I actually spoke my mind, every one of them has the power to kill all the rest… or at least cause a lot of destruction along the way." He sighed and added. "Any idiot can start a war. If it takes a hundred stupid little things to keep people occupied for the sake of peace, including juggling a fantasy harem, I guess I can do that."

He looked over his shoulder, and muttered, "Speaking of idiots starting wars…"

Carol followed his gaze and saw another familiar face approaching the bar. She immediately turned away and thought, _don't you dare come over here._

It was no use, of course. A few seconds later, she could hear his voice, the first one all night that spoke in English. "Ah, Dr. Dawson, I was hoping I'd run into you here."

Carol still did not turn around. " _Go away,_ " she spat.

"May we talk in private?"

"Greta, we're leaving."

"We can have this conversation here, or at your apartment. I have the complete cooperation of the Japanese government."

When Carol looked over her shoulder, she saw that Ambassador Robert Clayton was standing just out of arm's reach. Perhaps he'd anticipated how hard she wanted to slap him—unfortunately she wouldn't get the chance. At least he wasn't smiling; then she would have _needed_ to slap him.

"It should only take a few minutes," he added.

Carol turned back to Itami and Risa, asking, "Can I leave Greta with you for a little while?"

Itami gave a grim nod and as Carol stood to leave, she felt Greta place a hand on her shoulder. A quick look at the panic on her friend's face told her everything she needed to know. She squeezed Greta's hand, then followed Clayton out of the room, leaving the three others at the bar.

The room Clayton led her to was protected by a pair of Diplomatic Security Service agents, and was empty save for a small conference room table, a few chairs, and a series of floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the city beyond.

Once they were alone, Carol said, "If this about Greta, you can't have her."

Clayton raised an eyebrow. "Why would I want her?"

"I don't know, technology reasons, politics games—"

"I am well aware that her time away from you has done little to promote a positive relationship to the United States Government," Clayton said. "There are better people we can… lobby… if we want to influence politics in the Special Region. As for technology, DARPA is more interested in magic implementation than application at this stage, and your demihuman friend is an engineer, not a magician."

"It had better stay that way."

Clayton nodded. "You have every right to be upset. What happened to Greta was unpleasant—"

" _Unpleasant!_ " Carol shouted. "That's the best you can come up with!? She lost her hand! She lost seven years of her life! She has separation anxiety and PTSD and who-the-hell knows what else and I can do jack shit about it because demihuman psychiatry _doesn't exist yet!_ **Unpleasant! FUCK YOU!** "

To this, the Ambassador said nothing. His expression and posture didn't change, and he didn't break eye contact. After what felt like a full minute Carol realized she was shaking, and she was developing something akin to a headache. She took a deep breath and dropped into one of the chairs. It was only then that she realized that the wet sticky feeling in her right fist wasn't sweat and, opening her hand, she saw where her fingernails had torn her palm.

When she looked up again, Clayton was across the table, offering a box of tissues. "I do not want Greta," he said, his voice lower and quieter than before.

Carol didn't respond.

"I do not want Greta. There are no agencies in the United States that I'm aware of that want her for anything either. I have put conditions into place so that if Japan decides they want her, they can't have her. If you want to take her to the US, I have a Green Card waiting with her name on it. I cannot undo what has already been done, but I will do my part to see that nothing like that ever happens to her again."

This time Carol took a handful of tissues and pressed them to the cut on her hand. She still wasn't willing to look up at the man.

They sat in silence for another minute before Carol said, "What do you want?"

"Yesterday you were visited by Takagi Sayo from JSDF Military Intelligence. What did she ask about?"

Carol couldn't help but smirk and say, "I don't get it."

"What do you mean?"

"If someone wanted to do intelligence gathering, I'd be talking to the CIA or the military, not the Ambassador to the Falmart Republic. Why am I talking to you about this?"

Clayton folded his hands and said, "Let's see, the Dirrel administration ran from 2016 to 2020, and we are currently in the year 2027. Mahana's administration ends next November. The Iowa Caucus occurs in five months. By that point, I would like to be on good terms with the candidates from both parties… and that requires me to remain at the forefront of whatever's going on with the Special Region."

"So this isn't about America," Carol said. "This is just about you"

"Why not both? If there's an ongoing concern regarding America's relationship to Falmart, I'm in the best position to address it. I would like to maintain that position, regardless of which party takes the White House next year."

Carol leaned across the table. "Honestly?" She said. "I think you should give up on the whole thing, buy a condo in Maui, and stop bothering people."

Clayton chuckled and shook his head. "I've considered it! But I can't do it. Not now. Not with so many important things still in play. With so much trade now occurring in the Special Region, the Chinese presence has gone up, and Russian fleet assets in Vladivostok have doubled. The Gate is only so big, and can only be open for so long each day without the earthquakes and spatial distortions starting up again, but the businesses don't care. Either I can continue to manage it, or you can see the next administration hand the role to some obscure party figure with no experience. Do you want that, Dr. Dawson?"

"It's stupid," Carol muttered. "It's stupid and I hate it."

"And yet, this is the way things work. The devil you know, or the devil you don't."

 _It's not like Takagi had anything useful to say,_ she thought. Eventually, she sighed and said, "The Japanese think that SR-Phizons are being brought through the Gate. I told them that the air pressure differential between our side and Alnus meant that it was possible that Phizons were being carried over to our side on the resulting air currents."

Clayton pulled out his phone and a Bluetooth stylus and made some notes. "Did she ask about anything else?"

"No, that was it."

"Then may I ask you a question? How far do you suppose these Phizons might have gone once they entered our atmosphere?"

Carol shrugged. "That's a question for a meteorologist. Ask Kuragin… or if not him, then I'm sure that you must know someone at NOAA."

"Of course," Clayton said, and put the phone and stylus away. "I'll be in the States for the next week doing a speaking tour with Mahana. Hopefully, I'll remain out of your way from here on. Thank you for your cooperation."

Carol stood to leave, but before she left, she said, "Maybe you can answer a question for me. There's a rumor going around the military and aviation community that you tested something in the skies over Falmart. Some kind of nuclear engine. Is it true?"

The Ambassador grinned and said, "Naturally. We keep it in Area 51 right next to the flying saucers and little green men. You're a smart woman; I hope you know better than to listen to people like that."

She left him without any further words, and had a lot on her mind on the way back to the main hall. Would Greta actually be safer in the United States? Was the Japanese government still interested in her in some way? And why was everyone suddenly so interested in how much air was passing through the Gate?

The voice of an Air Force Security airman from years ago popped into her head. _This isn't fucking Harry Potter. You don't get points for solving the mystery. Drop it._

In this case, perhaps this was the correct approach. Her primary concern, even tantamount to her job, was Greta's well-being.

She stopped, _Odd,_ she thought. _When did that start?_

Going back over it in her head, it had been after their meeting at the Kennedy Space Center. The morning after, she had found herself in the Visitors Center, starting at the other postcards, particularly the one of the X-15. That afternoon, she had reached out to Clayton for information on how to talk to Greta, and had gotten nothing in return. First slowly, then with increasing commonality, she had sent a flurry of emails and letters; to the Department of Defense, to the Department of State, to Clayton's personal office, and to all of their respective counterparts in Japan. Nothing. When Greta had appeared on the sidewalk in front of Tsukuba Space Center years later, Carol had long been under the impression that Greta was being restrained somewhere beyond the Gate, or worse, and her mental condition once they settled down for a proper talk only steeled her resolve to keep Greta from experiencing more of the same. Carol had been at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs the very next day, demanding that they issue a work visa for Greta so that she would not need to return to Falmart.

And yet, she had plenty of friends and colleagues over the years that she had helped through rough times, so what made Greta different? Was it because Carol blamed herself for it? Was it because Greta was so much younger than her, in appearance if not maturity? Was it the severity of the damage?

She didn't know.

When she arrived back at the bar, Greta was huddled between Itami and Risa, both of which seemed like they were trying to console her. Naturally, it was Greta's voice that Carol picked up on first. "I _am_ being serious! I'm never going back there!"

"Greta—" Carol began, but the woman whirled to face her and said, her eyes cold and fierce. "Tell them they can't have me. I won't let them."

"He doesn't—"

"If they try, I'm going to throw myself in front of a train—"

"Greta!"

"I won't do it again, I—I never want to see any of it again! Not Falmart, not Alnus, not the Gate—why can't they just leave us—!?"

"Greta!" Carol seized her charge by the shoulders and said, "They weren't here for you! Neither of us is going anywhere! We're staying right here, okay?" She lifted a hand to Greta's cheek. "We're not going anywhere."

The look on Greta's face slowly settled. "Oh," she said. "I t-thought—"

She didn't get much further. Seeing the tears starting, Carol grabbed Greta in a firm hug, letting her student burry her face on her shoulder. Perhaps that was it, Carol wondered, as she felt Greta's body shake with sobs. Despite all the time that had passed, she still thought of Greta as that bright-eyed girl she'd met in Alnus, kind of like her own…

She noticed Itami mouthing a question to her and squinted, trying to read his lips.

 _Did he threaten you?_

Carol shook her head, and the ex-soldier nodded and summoned the bartender for another drink.


	6. Chapter 5 - Earth Departure

**Tan Son Nhat International Airport, Vietnam**

It was raining when Komakado landed in Ho Chi Minh city, and the airport was hopelessly crowded with businessmen, tourists, and all manner of other people.

 _How the hell am I supposed to find my contact in all of this?_ He had been given little information, aside from an area past customs where he was to wait. He was tired after his flight from Narita, and he really wanted to either stop off in a hotel, or find a cup of coffee and bury himself in work.

"Are you Hideyo Komakado?" A voice asked in English.

It took the Japanese agent a moment to pick the face out of the crowd, but eventually he noticed the lanky Vietnamese man in the suit staring back at him. "That's me," Komakado said.

"My name is Le Anh Trihn. I am with TC2, and I am your INTERPOL liaison for this assignment." Trihn held out a hand, but his face was cold and humorless. Komakado knew that, even with the increasing business ties between his country and Vietnam, there were still those with negative feelings towards Japan… particularly in the context of the Second World War. He wasn't about to debate any of that with the man across from him, and for all he knew, Trihn was just irritated at being called out to the airport on a rainy day.

Either way, Komakado shook his hand and replied in his own English, "Thank you for being here to greet me, and please accept the thanks of my government for your assistance on this operation."

Trihn did not go as far as offering to take Komakado's suitcase, but he did keep pace with the Japanese man as they walked out to a waiting car. He felt uneasy at the driver wearing a PAVN uniform, but considering as Vietnam was in control of this component, he had no right to complain. "So," Komakado said, once they were moving. "I assume you have been briefed on the findings of my government?"

"Of course."

"Have you any leads on the head of the Fist of the Twelve?"

"There is no need. We already know who it is, and where it is being run from."

That caught Komakado by surprise. "You do? Who is it?"

A small grin appeared on Trihn's face. "Really? Your government didn't tell you? And here I thought it would be obvious."

He waited for Komakado's response, and for a moment the only noise was the purr of the engine and the whirring of the windshield wipers. When he got none Trihn said, "Does the name of Thi Van Nguyen mean anything to you?"

Komakado thought over it and said, "He was deported two years ago for his involvement in the Rushing War."

"Rushing War?"

"That's what they call it in the Special Region. It was their first war fought mostly in the air. While the Imperial Civil War and most prior wars took place over the course of years, the Rushing War ended in less than a month… because that's what happens when you can suddenly use aircraft to rush from place to place."

"I see. At the time we weren't as concerned. Nguyen went off the grid for about a year, then mentions of him began to reappear several months ago. TC2 had been instructed to keep an eye on his activities, as anyone with experience beyond the Gate was still thought valuable at that time. Now his knowledge isn't so much as interesting as the amount of money he's moving around… and the ISP bandwidth he was leveraging. Once INTERPOL informed my organization that the central office for the Fist of Twelve was in Vietnam, there was only one person who it ever could have been."

Komakado nodded, then looked up, startled, "Have you arrested him already?"

"Hah, no!" Trihn said. "He has a small private security force. Fewer than a dozen men, but enough that additional care must be taken. In the meantime...have you tried tasting Wyvern? There's a new place a few blocks from the hotel—"

"It's affecting your industry too?" Komakado said with a mild bit of shock. He knew that several countries had imported animals for the Special Region, either for zoos or for farming, but the food was usually reserved for upscale locations. Had the Vietnamese really domesticated and mass produced wyverns in such a short amount of time?

Trihn shrugged. "Whatever makes money? Sometimes it's the real thing, sometimes it's a knock-off. Most of the various things from the Special Region are too expensive to obtain in bulk, so we send observers to their artisans, then bring the technique back for mass production here. The Westerners especially are more prone to buy something with a 'Made with Falmart Techniques' label and ignore the 'Made in Vietnam' sticker affixed to the bottom. The only things that can't be faked are the meat and fruits… but those can be grown locally, and they are doing wonders these days with Artificial Flavors."

In other words, who knew if the place Trihn had suggested actually sold wyvern meat? "That's impressive. I always assumed that something similar was happening in my country or in China, but this is the first I've heard from someone who actually knows about it."

"My brother runs a factory in Hanoi that produces plastic molds. He tells me about these things all the time. They sold a scale replica of a dragon skull which has seen some popularity, and they have had several clients put in orders for totems representing the Special Region gods."

That got Komakado to raise an eyebrow. "Outside the Fist of Twelve, I know there's a lot of global interest in Falmart's gods, but very little worship. It must be wonderful to have a deity that can release public statements. Having the Gods themselves explain that they cannot influence things on Earth was a big help, and the general negativity of the Western religious leaders towards them has reduced the chances of anything changing in the next few years."

Trihn nodded. "I hear that the Pope is going to Bellnahgo in a few months to meet with Hardy. That should be interesting… it makes me wonder what the people of that world must think of our religions."

"They are mostly irritated and unimpressed," Komakado said. "And I'm speaking from many interviews. We had several religious organizations from the Falmart Republic send ambassadors to Japan and other countries around the world, and the story is the same every time. They think that either Earth gods are obnoxious and refuse to respond, or they believe that our gods are in hiding because they are terrified of being attacked."

"Like the Americans did to the Gods over there?"

Komakado frowned. "You would need to ask them. My government continues to deny that the Bomb was used, even if it's public knowledge, and no one truly knows what happened two years ago."

Trihn shook his head at that. "They might as well admit to it."

"I know what you mean, but that's politics, eh? We're all fakes in some way."

Trihn's mood appeared to lighten a little. "Indeed. Let's go to the restaurant anyway. Even if none of it's real, we can pretend that it makes sense."

* * *

 **Outside Italica, Falmart Republic**

Ayaka took a deep breath and tried again. As she had been instructed, she pictured the tomato in her head and tried to call up in her mind her family's one vacation to Okinawa, in her youth. Specifically, she imagined how it felt as the airplane rushed down the runway at Narita, the feeling of it rising into the sky, and, strangely, what it was like to try and put that rising sensation into words. Before her, she thought the fruit on the tree stump was starting to waver, and then—

The shriek of a train whistle broke her concentration. "Damn it!" She shouted, whirling around to face back towards the city. "Can't you be quiet for, like, five minutes!?"

A decade ago, finding a clear space outside of Italica would have been as easy as stepping outside its walls. Now it was no longer the case. Italica marked the furthest edge of the Japanese territories in the Special Region, and served as both border control and distribution point for the Falmart Republic beyond. As such, it was now home to hundreds of warehouses, factories, and a rail yard… with three lines to Alnus already complete and even more under rapid construction. From the hill where they stood, Ayaka's view of Formal Manor was blocked by a steel water tower that doubled as a cellphone repeater.

She had high hopes and expectations that Italica would be better than Alnus, but the sheer weight of Earth industries with things to sell had buried the old city like an avalanche. If she wanted architecture and history, she'd have better luck taking a Bullet Train to Kyoto.

"Maintaining concentration can be difficult," Lelei said. "There are techniques used by battlemages for blocking out distractions, but you must master the basics first. Try again, please."

Ayaka gave an annoyed huff and turned back around to face the tomato. They had been out here for hours, and she wasn't having much success. Sometimes the tomato was flattened into paste. Sometimes it was fried or exploded in place. On one occasion, the tomato imploded and became covered in frost. Most of the time, nothing happened at all.

"Your body understands the concept of 'up' better than you do," Lelei said. "Trust it. Do not think about it too hard."

So Ayaka swept out a hand and, imagining punting it across the glen shouted, "Move you damn—"

The tomato took off like it had been launched from a howitzer, and was quickly gone from sight. It wasn't what she was aiming for, but at least it had traveled in the right direction. 'Well," Ayaka said, "it _did_ move this time."

"Fascinating," Lelei said.

"What?"

"I am curious... you pictured the fruit moving quickly, correct?"

"Yeah, so?"

"It is normal for apprentice magicians to accelerate objects upwards at fast speeds during their first attempts, but not _that_ quickly."

A grin started to creep onto Ayaka's face. "Wait… so, are you telling me that I'm more powerful than a Special Region apprentice?"

Lelei shook her head. "I am telling you that Falmart magicians have a slower concept of 'fast'."

"I don't get it."

The mage took a seat on the now-vacated stump and explained, "Magic manipulation is based on the caster's understanding of the world. The idea of things rising, falling, becoming warmer or colder, and so on. Even if you do not understand what makes the world as it is does not mean that you haven't experienced it. For example, until ten years ago, no one had heard of Gravity before. We understood the idea that objects fall when released, but we had created an idea called 'Earthly attraction' to explain it. It wasn't until I had a chance to study the Earth sciences in depth that I learned that Gravity is really just a negative vector of Sether. Despite all of this, a magician could still lift objects using magic, because even the smallest child can realize that they can make an object rise by picking it up.

"But what if your idea of picking something up and my idea of picking something up were different? If my idea of picking something up involved just my hands, while yours involved a large construction crane, would its manifestation in magic be different? This is what I believe happened here. When I was young, 'fast' meant the speed of a bird, or a rock falling from a great height. To someone like you who grew up in a world of high-speed trains and supersonic fighter jets, your idea of 'fast' is… faster."

Ayaka didn't really understand, but she could still shrug and say, "Does it at least mean I'm making progress?"

"Yes. At this rate, you may be a fully-fledged magician in three years." Lelei stood and said, "Let us get lunch...and another bag of tomatoes."

Ayaka gave an irritated sigh, but followed her master anyway. She knew it was her first day, and she knew that no skill on Earth could be mastered in minutes, but the idea of a long journey ahead of her was irritating, and her thoughts were plagued with curiosity over what her parents must be thinking, and how they would react to their daughter returning home years later able to…

 _Able to launch tomatoes into space,_ she chided herself. Hopefully she'd be more capable by that point, but still...

"Lalena-sensei—"

"Lelei is fine."

"Lelei-san," Ayaka tried again, unwilling to fully drop the formality, "You said before that you knew someone who could help me find what I'm looking for?"

"I do."

"When will I be able to meet them?"

"Whenever she decides to show up."

Ayaka gave her mentor a quizzical look. "Does she at least know I'm here?"

"Probably."

"Can't you tell her?"

"It would not make a difference."

"Then… is there a trick for getting better at magic?"

Lelei thought about it, then said, "Practice."

"There aren't any books I can read up on?"

"All the books about magic are mostly about understanding the natural world. The majority of those books have since been rendered obsolete by Earth Physics. If you wish to learn about the natural world, I recommend Wikipedia and YouTube."

"It's just… none of this was what I was expecting."

Lelei's expression didn't change (it rarely ever did), but she did turn her head to look at Ayaka directly. "What were you expecting?"

"I don't know, castles? Knights in armor on horses? Magical creatures and ancient architecture?"

Lelei nodded. "Ah, yes. We got rid of most of that."

" _Why?_ It's all so—so—"

The magician tilted her head to the side. "Can a city wall stop a tank?"

"I mean, no, but—"

"Can a horse out-race or out-carry a diesel locomotive?"

"No—"

"Do you allow tigers and bears to roam through your cities?"

"What? Of course n—"

"Do you live in a wooden hovel or stone castle?"

"...no."

"Why not?"

Ayaka sighed in resignation. "Because it would be inconvenient."

"Precisely," Lelei said. "There is no reason to keep old things when new things are consistently better."

"But what about Culture?"

"What about it?"

"Don't you miss the old things? Isn't there an interest to preserve history?"

"Only old people miss old things, and few people value history. Perhaps we should go to the Old City in Sadera, you will probably like that."

Ayaka shook her head. "I don't get it."

Now, suddenly, Lelei seemed interested. "Explain."

"In my world—in Japan—culture is very important to us. It reminds us where we are from, how our ancestors solved old problems, and where our current sensibilities come from… and these things are important to us. If tomorrow you were to destroy the Imperial Palace in Tokyo, or the old palace in Kyoto, or the castle in Himeji, many people would be very upset, despite all of these places being reflections of old forms of government that no longer see the same degree of use. I don't get how you can be so fast to throw all of your history away."

Lelei stopped and planted her staff firmly at her side. The far-off look on her face told Ayaka she was thinking. After a while, she said, "History, you said?"

"Yeah."

"I think I understand," Lelei said. "A thousand years ago, Japan was very different, correct?"

"A thousand years ago, there was no unified Japan! Even Oda Nobunaga's attempt at unification was about five hundred years ago."

Lelei nodded, as if this answered her question. "I see. A thousand years ago, Falmart was exactly the same as it was ten years ago."

" _Ehhh?_ " The Japanese interrogative was out of her mouth before Ayaka could even think. "But… but that's impossible! You had industry, and transportation, and natural philosophers, and—"

"Gods," Lelei finished. "We also had Gods."

Seeing that Ayaka was still confused, Lelei went on, "The Gods limited technological and cultural progress on this world as a means of maintaining power over its people. As a result, little changed over the course of centuries, except for the occasional Gate for the sake of adding more amusing creatures they could control, and mixing up the tedium they themselves created. Can a people have a proper passion for culture and history when the two stand, essentially unchanged, for thousands of years? I suspect not. And even if a human or demihuman got other ideas, the Gods had multiple means of smiting them and maintaining the…" one eyebrow dropped slightly, "I think the English term is _status quo?_ "

Ayaka smiled, "It's actually Latin, a dead language we keep around for some of those cultural and history reasons. But is that all? Was it really just the Gods stopping all of that?"

Lelei swept out a hand towards Italica's factories. "America sent them away twice. This is the result. Even during the seven-year technological hold, our world changed more in a few years than it had in a long, long time."

"Then maybe the Gods understood the concept of culture?" Ayaka suggested. "Perhaps they were the one thing holding it all together? Was sending them away really the right idea?"

And then something surprising happened; Lelei's usually impassive face morphed into a scowl. "Good riddance."

"But—"

Lelei grabbed Ayaka by her shirt and hauled her over so their faces were inches away from each other. In an uncharacteristically low growl, she said, "I do not mind your ignorance on other topics, but for this one it is unacceptable, so let me be very clear. The Gods are vile. Unchecked control over a world is an avenue to tyranny, and the Gods were, are, and always will be tyrants. They murdered millions, brought arbitrary misfortune to even more, and demanded our endless praise for it in return. They tried to kill my friends. One of them violated my body. The Gods are _vile,_ and you should consider yourself fortunate that Earth does not have anything similar."

As much as Ayaka had wanted to know what kinds of emotions were sitting on the other side of that expressionless mask, she hadn't expected anything quite like this. Her mentor slowly let her go, and she couldn't help but wonder if the rush headlong into technology and Earth's arms wasn't so much embracing the New world, as it was fleeing the Old. Some of the other things Lelei had mentioned, she had never personally experienced, but she had known girls at school who supposedly had gone through something similar. At least one _had_ jumped off of a roof.

She did the only appropriate thing her own culture taught her to do. She dropped to her knees and bowed. "I'm sorry," she said. "That was deeply offensive, and I shouldn't have said that, and—"

"You are forgiven," Lelei said, and on looking back up, Ayaka saw that the empty mask was back in place.


	7. Chapter 6 - Cruise

**Sadera, The Falmart Republic**

Great economic change tends to go hand in hand with political upheaval, so even though the Japanese Prime Minister was not the one that had originally suggested the idea of general access to the Gate, she was the one benefitting from it.

Kouhara Mizuki still smiled fondly at the bewildered look on Minister Hideaki's face as she accused his party of betrayal to the Japanese people with wild claims about geopolitical weakness and acceding land earned with Japanese blood to foreigners. The public and media had eaten it up, and her campaign commercials had been filled with pictures of buildings with Chinese names starting to appear in the Special Region. Granted, most of these were Japanese-owned, but it was enough to swing the national vote in her direction.

She knew that the JSDF wasn't a fan of her rhetoric. Early in her administration, General Kengun had pointed out to her the importance of not chasing allies away for the sake of looking good in politics. Her response? "Question me again, and I'll do the same for you as I did for Hazama." Kengun hadn't said anything against her since, and the Defense Ministry had quieted down, only giving her the occasional brief and mostly leaving the Foreign Ministry to earn her ire instead. Her scheduled meeting that day was their idea.

This led her to the current scenario, as she waited to step out of the Mitsubishi H-60 helicopter and into the stone courtyard. Supposedly, this courtyard had once been used for the review and staging of Saderan Imperial Wyvern squadrons, but with the massive changes in flight technology over in the Special Region, Wyverns and their riders were no longer a staple of Falmart's armies. Those with the skill had been allowed to move to remote villages with their beasts until modern travel and communications could be set up. Now the only visiting pilots flew foreign helicopters. From the window she could see a handful, representing the embassies of other major national players, including the conspicuously large V-22 Osprey belonging to the Americans, the Habrin Z-15 belonging to the Chinese, and the Kamov Ka-62 belonging to the Russians. All three were guarded, and all three had been towed to separate corners of the square.

With the rotors stopped, a JASDF airman opened the helicopter side door and she ducked out of the helicopter's downwash before being escorted to a ceremonial red carpet at the edge of the square.

The Saderan reception was different from the one Kouhara recalled from the peace negotiation seven years ago. Back then, the Imperial Guard was dressed like Roman legionnaires and carried swords and spears. Not anymore. The honor guard that lined one side of the carpet was at once a drastic evolution of the original gear, yet also strangely reflective of the modern military equipment the natives had observed on the JSDF. The soldiers wore simple tunics designed to not restrict motion, over which they wore sturdy vests with thin pockets for steel pieces, not so dissimilar from World War II flak jackets. Their helmets had similarly abandoned the traditional roman styling in favor of something that resembled the Japanese Type-88 or American ECH, with the noteworthy differences being, again, the less advanced materials and the red line that bisected it from the middle of the brim to the middle of the back, perhaps in reference to the crests from the original Romanesque design.

What caught her attention the most, however, was the new weapons. These were not swords, nor were these the simple musket-like weapons of the Rushing War with Rondel. Instead, they each appeared to hold rudimentary breech-loading rifles. The Ministry of Defense had told her about this little development a month ago, and while Kouhara was unnerved to see Falmart's arms inching closer to parity with their Earth counterparts, she was relieved to know, at least, that the two dozen weapons presented were Sadera's entire inventory, and the total ammunition for all the weapons did not exceed a hundred rounds. That would probably change in the coming years as they acquired or built better machining equipment, but it was heartening to know that Japan was still far ahead of them.

For now, at least.

At the end of the carpet stood the Falmart Republic's first Prime Minister, who had a warm smile on her face as she offered a formal Japanese style bow and said, in equally perfect Japanese, "Prime Minister Kouhara, it is an honor to have someone of your esteem visiting our humble city."

Somehow, Sherry Tyueli had become Prime Minister of a reorganized government at the same age that most Japanese university students were able to buy their first bottle of Saké. The story went that she had abused a clause in the constitution initially designed to allow demihumans to run for office, and held more than enough sway over the other senators to win. It probably helped that she held immense power in the government long before then, essentially acting as the hand upon the leash for then-Empress Pina Co Lada. In fact, virtually every politically significant movie Japan had made in the Special Region either directly or indirectly seemed to lead back to Sherry, starting with the Jade Palace incident, continuing through the peace and annexation negotiations, and most recently in her influence over Sugawara against Rondel. She had single-handedly outmaneuvered a decade's worth of previous administrations, but that, Kouhara decided, would end today. "Your words are very kind," she said, playing the role of the courteous diplomat. "On behalf of Japan and its citizens, thank you for this wonderful reception, and I look forward to getting to know you better over the next two days."

Together they left the square, followed by their respective entourages and security teams. "I couldn't help but notice your honor guard," Kouhara said. "It's remarkable the progress your country has made. What kind of range do you get out of those rifles?"

"Why?" Sherry asked with a wry smile, "Were you planning on purchasing some?"

"Personal curiosity. I sat on the National Defense Council during my junior years in the Diet. Actually, I was part of the group that listened to Itami's report on the first Battle of Italica and the encounter with the Flame Dragon, so whenever I see something new in the Special Region, I am naturally curious."

Sherry laughed and said, "In that case, you can assume that they have a range comparable to any standard-issue JSDF designated marksman rifle."

"Really!"

"With all due respect, Prime Minister, I wouldn't have you believe anything else."

Of course, the game had started already, and Kouhara was already finding herself on the defensive. "Do you expect to encounter lots of enemies that require firepower like that?" she asked. "It's my understanding that most other kingdoms on this planet are still relatively tribal or primitive in comparison."

Sherry shrugged. "Why should we wait for Tinae or Elbe to catch up to us? Japan has separate trade agreements with both, and we wish to maintain the ability to handle difficult situations on our own. After all, with nearly a thousand people entering the Japanese territory around Alnus on a near-daily basis, it's imperative that we develop the means to maintain our laws, even if one of the Earth men pulls a gun on us."

"International merchants are searched for weapons before they are permitted through the Gate," Kouhara pointed out.

"Kouhara-san, if humans were naturally effective at performing inspections, I would not be alive today. We must remain vigilant."

From the courtyard, they entered the main palace. Kouhara had seen the pictures before, but to see the beautiful architecture for herself was delightful and reminded her of the old shrines and castles in Kyoto. "Is Empress Pina here today?" she asked.

"The Empress is no longer a head of state, and is now more of a symbol than anything else. She resides in the North wing and released the rest of the Palace complex to the Senate for use as offices, libraries, and receiving rooms. If she does not produce an heir before she dies, then the Imperial line will be considered ended, and the Senate will take possession of the whole building. That said, I expect her to join us for a State Dinner tonight, so you should see her then."

They finally found themselves alone on either side of a desk in a room that overlooked the city below. On her side of the desk, Sherry powered on a solar-charged Lenovo laptop, typed in a few things, then said, "And now, Prime Minister, to business. I imagine that you wouldn't be making a visit like this if you didn't have something particularly critical to discuss?"

Kouhara nodded. "That's right. To begin, how much do you understand of Japan's current geopolitical situation on Earth?"

Sherry leaned back in her chair and folded her hands. "I know many things. I know that the Americans _almost_ dragged you into a major war with North Korea six years ago. I know that your situation with Russia over the Kuril Islands is still tenuous, and I know that the ongoing withdrawal from the Chinese economy by the United States and Japan has made the situation with your neighbor from across the sea increasingly dire for you. Speaking of which, the United States is under increasing pressure at home to disengage from its overseas bases, forcing more of Japan's federal budget to be redirected towards your military for the first time in a long time. When you put all of these things together, I understand why you would be so nervous as to want to talk to me...and I think I can guess at what you want."

Kouhara hadn't said anything. She knew that she hadn't said anything, and the little devil seemed to be guessing things already. "Eh?" she said. "What do you think we want? I shall tell you if you are correct or not."

This time Sherry stood, but only briefly as she soon after sat down on the edge of the desk. "With all of these issues on the horizon, you're looking for a way of guaranteeing the safety of your citizens—no, hold on, what am I saying? Let me try again. You want a way of guaranteeing the safety of your _government_ in the event of an international meltdown. You're here because the Special Region is one terminal for the Gate. If you think about it, the Gate is the perfect bunker—anything you load into it is transported to the safety of another planet. The Gate itself could be destroyed, in theory at least, but unless you have a bomb that can leap across space and time, no Earth nation would be able to strike at the individuals or assets stored safely here in Falmart."

"Precisely," Kouhara said, "And since such a weapon does not exist, it's a non-issue—"

Sherry's eyebrows shot up and her lips parted as if she was about to say something. A moment passed, she shook her head, and the reaction was gone. "You're right, of course. I hope that such a disaster never befalls your nation."

But Kouhara _had_ noticed the reaction and asked, "Do you know differently?"

"Ah, no. My apologies. I was recently gifted a box set of a television show called Star Trek, which features a device that allows objects to materialize out of thin air. It's sometimes hard to tell which technologies from your fiction are real, and which are not."

"I see."

"Regardless, do you really need the Falmart Republic's assistance with such a thing? The land handed over to the Japanese government should be more than large enough to accommodate even a large influx of refugees, as the last two wars should have proven."

"That's true," Kouhara said. "However, with the increased foreign investment in Alnus, there is concern within my government that Alnus itself may not necessarily be safe. While we would normally consider the base at Ichijima as an alternative, it is very isolated and lacks the same degree of communication with Alnus if we decide we need it. I believe that the first of the new Fiber Optic cables was terminated in Sadera last week, correct?"

Sherry nodded. "I had the chance to use it myself. It's a wonderful system."

"Basically, we hope to be able to move key elements of the Japanese government to the Jade Palace in the event of a major problem at home. Our relationship with the Americans is still good at this time, and the Jade Palace itself has become a very well-defended compound."

"I don't see a problem with it," Sherry said. "Again, I hope that such a situation never occurs, but we still consider Japan to be our strongest ally. You have helped us so much, and so we would be glad to help you.

"That said…" Sherry folded her hands on her lap, "None of your predecessors made a similar request, so this can't be prompted by the usual list of issues. Let's see… is this because of that girl, Ms. Sasaki?"

Kouhara was slowly coming to realize what the Foreign Ministry had warned her about. The girl across from her was freakishly shrewd, and had put the pieces together faster than Kouhara herself had when the Defense Minister had first explained these things to her. In fact, the more she thought about it, every part of the discussion had been carefully choreographed. The soldiers to remind her that Falmart wouldn't be trampled forever, the speed that she'd turned the conversation towards Japan begging Falmart for help, even the fact that she'd perched herself on her desk to she was looking _down_ at Kouhara was all designed to put the Japanese PM at a disadvantage.

If Sherry knew that much, there was little to lose by coming clean. "The appearance of humans with magical aptitude outside the Special Region has us concerned. As you are well aware, we have the means to respond to a magical threat, but we don't know what it means for civil stability… or the civil stability of other countries if the effect spreads. Religious and political zealotry are just as disruptive on our planet as they are on yours, but when combined with the ability to turn the believer into a living weapon… you can understand why we would be cautious."

"Naturally," Sherry said. "Unfortunately, I would be remiss if I did not ask for a minor concession in return… namely a reduction of the war reparations?"

"That should not be a problem," Kouhara said. "After all, the various sales, property, and income taxes from opening Alnus have more than offset the payments to the Ginza survivors."

"Pina will be delighted to hear that. Speaking of which, shall I show you around the palace? I am told that our art and architecture is phenomenal, even by Earth standards."

She hopped off the desk, clearly through with the negotiations, and gestured for Kouhara to follow. Kouhara for her part wasn't certain what to think of all of this. Certainly, she had been baited plenty of times over her career, including the irritating incident from nine years prior where Rory Mercury had called her out on her tactics in the middle of a Diet interview, but she had never been _railroaded_ to such a startling degree. _I'll have to get Sherry back later,_ she thought. _Perhaps during resource negotiations I can make up the lost ground._ "I've heard only praise," Kouhara said, standing. "Where shall we go first?"

* * *

 **LATER THAT EVENING**

 **Northeast of Italica**

If the car ride out to the Dumas mountains had been strenuous on Ayaka, it was nothing compared to the hike up the side of Mt. Thyferia. "Aren't—you—supposed—to wear—gear—for this?" she wheezed. Lelei didn't seem to care (of course), beyond saying, "I can cast a spell to improve your stamina, but it also stands a chance of producing a deeply uncomfortable burning sensation once the spell wears off. Do you wish to try it?"

Ayaka shook her head and pushed herself a little bit more in an effort to keep pace. At this altitude, the air was cool and crisp, and the light of the full moon cast an eerie glow over their path. This, at least, was somewhat new. Ayaka had never really been one for camping, so the experience of walking through the forest surrounded by moonlight was as beautiful as it was surreal. Periodically, she would see the glowing eyes of animals (or were they monsters?) deep within the woods. Some blinked and were gone, but more than one pair locked with hers, following her and almost daring her to follow them into the darkness. "What's that?" she asked, pointing one out to Lelei.

Lelei considered the eyes for a moment and said, "Tvin-Quei. They fill a similar ecological niche to Earth mountain lions."

"Will they attack us?"

"Probably not. The beasts of this place know better than to attack the humans and demihumans who walk along this path."

"Have you ever been attacked before?"

"Only twice, both times by Tvin-Quei that were both young and starving. To a mature and well-fed Tvin-Quei, attacking a mage is far more trouble than it's worth."

In time, the eyes went away and the two were alone again. 'It's ahead," Lelei assured her.

Ayaka sighed, shifted her day pack on her back, and said, "You said this was supposed to be for a ritual, right?"

"That's right."

"What does the ritual do, exactly?"

"It hasn't rained on the fields outside of Italica for nearly two weeks. We shall correct this."

"So we're creating a rain storm," Ayaka said. "Is that why we need to be so high up?"

Lelei shook her head. "This puts us closer to the moon, which acts as a magnifier for the effects of magic. Storms are difficult to create and control, and anything to boost the pool of energy at our disposal is helpful."

A few minutes later and they entered a large clearing atop a granite cliff. The ground here was gravel and sand, ground by the many magicians who must have visited this place over the years. Four other mages were already present, Some held arcane tools; one was drawing the outline of a massive pentagram in the dirt with a wood staff, while another was following behind him and placing focus crystals at key intersections. The other two were completely different, and had set up a portable weather station and lithium power bank. One of these two mages looked up from a laptop and said, "Ms Leleina, we're almost done with setup. We're waiting on one more pass from the American satellite constellation, then we'll have enough information to start."

"I don't see why we need it," the magician with the staff replied. "We were performing this ritual long before the JSDF and their technology—"

"And the results were consistently ambiguous, with equal chances of the storm producing egg-sized hail and racing in the wrong direction," the Mage at the weather station argued. 'Now that we have a clear understanding of the weather from the Earth peoples, we have a nearly perfect success rate."

The magician planting crystals looked up directly at Ayaka… or at least looked in her general direction. She couldn't tell because his hood was still up. "Another teenage girl?" he asked in thickly accented Japanese. "What does this make, four? Shall I start fleeing before the gods are attacked again?"

"That's enough, Hector," Lelei said. 'This is my charge, Sasaki Ayaka. Tonight she will be performing a simple conduit role."

The mage, Hector, laughed and strode over to meet her. "Tell me, girl," he said. "Have you also longing for some grand idea which is just out of your reach?"

Ayaka felt the blood rush to her face. "Well—"

Lelei stuck her staff between the two and said to the mage, "I know that you miss Ellie, but this simply isn't the right time."

"Who's Ellie?" Ayaka asked.

Hector smiled. At this distance she thought that there was something wrong with his face, but she couldn't tell for sure in the dim light. "An old friend," he said. "When I met her, she was just as lost as you seem to be. She's living in the United States at the moment, working for an aerospace company. You should see the pictures—"

"It's getting colder out, and it's forecast to get colder still," the laptop mage declared. "We ought to get started."

Lelei nodded in agreement and walked to one point of the pentagram. The other mages followed suit. "Your role in this is simple," she told Ayaka, "You will place a hand on my shoulder, and you will hold this with your other hand."

From within he robes, she produced a bluish-purple focus crystal. Ayaka had seen these before, but hadn't had the opportunity to try to use one. "What do I do to turn it on?" she asked.

"Nothing. If it's making contact with your skin, then that's good enough. The hand you place on me works through clothes, however."

Ayaka took the Focus Crystal and turned it over in her hands. It didn't make her feel any different, and she felt kind of silly just standing there while the other mages shifted into poses with their staves or empty hands.

At this stage, Ayaka expected them to start chanting, but the whispers of energy that whirled around the pentagram was more than enough to excite her. She couldn't help but think _Ah, now THIS is the real deal!_ The whisps became a stream, the stream became a fountain, and the fountain reached up into the sky before spilling over to the southwest, like a giant ethereal waterfall. As she watched, clouds billowed outwards in the distance, growing steadily taller until they saw a flash and heard a rumble of thunder.

"That's enough," Lelei said, and they lowered their hands.

"That's incredible!" Ayaka exclaimed. "Did we really make a thunderstorm, just like that? Do you do this often, or—"

"It's a new idea," the mage with the laptop said. "Mages have been trying to control the weather for centuries without much success. Two years ago, I read online that weather systems are created by forcing large masses of warm air upwards in a dense pocket before a cold front, so I figured, why not try it? Lelei and the others were more than happy to help me test it out, and the JASDF say they're okay with it as long as we give them a warning."

It was then that Ayaka realized… "Your Japanese is very fluent."

"If you're into magic research these days, you need to be!"

"We should get down from the mountain," Lelei said. "The storm will come in this direction as it moves east."

As the others scrambled to get their gear together, the mottled mage, Hector, approached her again and said, "Truly though, did you come here looking for something?"

"Yes, I was about to say that it was—"

The mage waved away the rest of her line. "It doesn't matter. I have no doubt that you'll find it, but I cannot help but wonder… do you believe in fate, girl?"

"Fate?"

"I think that's the right word… or is it destiny? I am still learning these new Earth words."

"What? No, you're fine. As for Fate…" she shrugged. "I'm not sure what I believe. Why do you ask?"

Hector folded his arms and said, "You can only read the same story so many times before you begin to predict the ending. I have met two girls before you who were in a similar predicament, and now you're here. Both turned out fine, of course, after overcoming a great struggle, but I wonder, who do you think gains by telling the same story three times?"

"I don't understand," Ayaka said. "What does it matter if we reach our goals through fate or self-determination? A goal is a goal, right?"

"But is it? If one smiles because they are happy, is it the same as one that smiles to hide malicious intent?"

"Of course not—" Ayaka started, but then stopped. She had been excited for this new world in the first place because she wanted to experience something real, but Hector had a point. What if this was a bigger fake? The people of this world still hid things, still filled their time with the same dry consumerism that had taken over Japan in the name of convenience. So what if they created thunderstorms, it was just a job to them.

Later, in the car, Ayaka asked, " _Lelei-sensei_ , do you think we are being directed by Fate?"

"I hope not. In the past, that was always the Gods in disguise."

"What happened to the other girls, the ones Hector was talking about? Who were they?"

The moon had clouded over, and it was hard to see the details of Lelei's face. "Before there was a demihuman, Ellie Fa Agne, who ended the Rushing War by piloting a craft that disabled focus crystals from above the atmosphere. Before her was another demihuman, Greta La Saretenian, who stopped the destruction of a city by influencing an American scientist. You are unique, certainly, but there are many people like that on both worlds. People who find themselves acting at the nodes of history, who bend the flow of Viither without knowing it. As for Hector and his Fate… if it helps him with his circumstances, then it does not matter."

Ayaka couldn't help but wonder what that was supposed to mean, but if she was deliberately hiding it, then it probably wouldn't be right to ask. Instead she said, "Hector said four girls. If he mentioned Greta, Ellie, and thinks I'm one, who was the fourth?"

Lelei thought about it, then said, "There was a number of girls that interacted with Itami Youji and shaped Japan's interaction with Falmart after they first came through the Gate. One of them, I suppose."

"Weren't you one of them?"

The magician's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "I told you," she said. "I don't like Fate. It's usually the Gods in disguise."

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

Thank you for your patience while we got through the setup. You should now have almost all of the information you need to know where the plot of this story is going to go. Depending on timing, I might post the next two chapters back-to-back as well.

Get ready, all hell's about to break lose!


	8. Chapter 7 - Course Correction

**THE NEXT DAY**

 **Sadera, Falmart Republic**

"Now this—this is more like it!" Ayaka cried as they passed through the gate into the old city.

Compared to the newer buildings in orderly rows outside the original city walls, Sadera's Old City was a collection of grand palaces and Roman-style villas. The air was full of interesting scents, and some of the people even wore traditional attires. _This_ is what she had been hoping to see.

"In that case," Lelei said, "I shall leave it to you to find your way." Her teacher turned on her heel and started to walk away.

"Wait!" Ayaka said, reaching out to stop her. "You said the woman with the answers was ready to meet me, aren't you going to take me to her?"

"It seemed like you wanted to explore," Lelei said, impassive. "Go explore. I told her that you would be in the area and to keep an eye out for you."

"What if she misses me?"

"She won't." Lelei continued back towards the new part of the city and was soon lost in the crowd.

Ayaka sighed and straightened up. _There's nothing to be worried about, after all,_ she thought. _I'm not some American kid that needs constant watching. I walked around Tokyo alone plenty of times. If something bad were to happen, I have magic._ _Anyway…_

Not sure what to do and where to go, she decided to follow the street directly in front of her. At first, she simply enjoyed the ambiance; the crowd speaking the old Imperial language, marble statues of emperors and heroes long past, stone fountains of mythical creatures… all of it inviting, and all of it causing her to reach down to her skirt pocket for a cell phone camera that she kept forgetting wasn't there.

After a while, she came upon a marketplace. Salesman at stalls called in her direction, but she didn't know enough Imperial to understand much of it. Eventually, one shouted in Japanese, "Pretty lady! Yes! I have good food! You buy, yes?"

Ayaka looked at what the stall was selling. Some kind of skewered meat. It smelled nice, at least. "How much?" she asked.

"Five," he pointed to the skewers, then held up a hand to help indicate the number. "One Denari."

She looked uncertainly back up at the man. She had been able to use Japanese Yen in both Alnus and Italica, and didn't remember the currency exchange rate offhand.

It didn't matter much, as she wasn't carrying any. "Oh, um, I only have Yen, sorry!"

"Yen, okay! Five for five hundred yen, okay!"

"Well…" she wasn't really in the mood for five skewers of whatever he was offering. "Not five, just one, please."

"No, no, you buy five, yes?"

She wasn't used to bartering. In Japan, you walked into the local convenience store, walked to the cash register, and paid the quoted amount. She backed away and said, "Oh, never mind then—"

But as she turned to walk away he shouted, "Okay, one for one hundred yen!"

Ayaka slipped a coin out of her purse and handed it to him, and received a skewer in exchange. She thanked him and walked away from the stand as quickly as possible as he shouted after her, "Is very good, yes! You tell friend, yes!"

Once she was away from the man and sitting on the edge of one of the fountains, she finally decided to try the meat. It was warm-not quite hot-but it was pretty spicy, far more so that the normally mild Japanese staples she had at home.

As she wondered if it was really worth the purchase, a man in a leather tunic approached her and said, "Hi, you're new here, aren't you?"

He had a chiseled face and thick arms… he was handsome in a Western movie actor kind of way, and Ayaka nearly dropped the skewer out of distraction. "Yes, yes I am! Actually, I'm just touring, and-"

"I'd be happy to show you some of the sites, if you're interested," he offered his hand, "I'm Claudius, by the way. You are?"

"Sasaki Ayaka, the Sasaki is spelled like—" and then she stopped herself. This man had no use for the kanji spelling of her name. "Is this a paid tour?"

"Normally, yes, but you're cute, so we can discuss a price at the end." Claudius flashed her a winning grin and waved her to follow. "You strike me as someone who likes history, right?"

"Finally, someone who gets it!"

"I know! The Americans and Australians only want to see art, but Japanese like history. Great taste. We should probably start with this market, which dates back about five hundred years to Emperor Iskelion. He originally was using the square for legionnaire practice, but ultimately decided to move the military drills to one of the sites between the palace inner and outer walls. Some of these stalls have histories going back centuries."

And he continued to talk, on and on about little cultural tidbits, long ago emperors and wars. Their conversation eventually took them out of the market, past a few villas, and down a series of streets. Over time, the houses become smaller, the streets more crowded, and the clientele more shabby-looking. "This is where the real culture is," Claudius commented. "Most of the stuff up near the top of the hill is just for tourists. Overpriced snacks and jewelry and souvenirs. To find the really unique stuff, you need to go a bit more rustic. Say, is there perhaps something you're trying to find or buy?"

Ayaka thought about it. "It would really be nice to get one of the pretty robes that the nobles wear. I don't know how much they cost, but I'd like to know and maybe try one on."

Claudius nodded. "They can be a bit pricy for a Saderan, but most Earth tourists can actually afford stuff like that, especially if it's bought second-hand and tailored. Actually, I know just the place. Follow me."

Their walk took them down a narrow side street for a few blocks before Claudius turned to an alleyway. "It's right in here," he said, and went in.

Ayaka peeked into the alleyway. It was narrow and dim, and she started to feel a gnawing at her gut. Either the skewered meat was giving her indigestion, or something was wrong about this place. "You know—"

She was thrown to the ground as something slammed into the back of her head. Scared and alarmed, she recoiled away from the strike and tried to scramble back to her feet but was kicked hard in the rear, sending her sprawling again. Above her, someone was speaking in Imperial and, to her horror, Claudius replied to them in a casual, even voice. "I don't want any trouble—" she tried to say, but one of the men kicked her in the ribs, immediately silencing her, before a second man hauled her up and pinned her against a wall.

There were three of them; Claudius, a wolf demihuman, and a third man with a long scar down the side of his face and a missing ear. It was the wolfman that had her pinned by each shoulder, gazing at her with big yellow eyes and filling her nose with its rancid breath. She struggled to get one of her hands up, to concentrate on magic, but in her panic she couldn't focus. It was like the alley in Sannomiya all over again, but worse. She tried to turn her waist away as Claudius reached for it, eventually reaching into her skirt pocket and extracting the purse within. He opened it up, dumped the contents into his hand, and started counting. "Please, let me go," Akaya whimpered, only for the wolfman to slam her into the wall again, causing pain to spike through her back. "You, no talk!" he said in broken Japanese.

Next, Claudius produced the debit card the Defense ministry had prepared to her and waved it in front of her face. "This is a card for those money machines, right?" he said. "What's the number?"

"I swear—"

She was slammed into the wall a third time and shrieked in pain. _Why isn't anyone coming to help?_ She wondered. The side street had been vacant, but surely someone in one of the houses must be able to hear? Or did they not care?

"W-one, nine z-zero, nine." she said. "I-I've told you everything, please let-"

But the wolfman still wasn't satisfied. He snarled something at the two humans, then reached up, hooked one finger into the neckline of her T-shirt and began to pull. It dawned on her instantly what was about to happen, and she screamed. She screamed at the top of her lungs, a piercing shriek that she didn't even know she was capable of.

Through the blur of her tears, she barely registered the sudden spray of something warm on the top of her head, but she was faster to notice that the wolfman's grip had suddenly relaxed. She dropped to the dirt, throwing herself out of the way as she tried with one arm to wipe her eyes to see what had just happened.

The two men were frozen and did not try to attack her. Instead, their attention was taken up by the giant, jet-black axe-like weapon that was now sunk clear through the wolfman's head, neck, and upper torso. The dead demihuman's mouth dropped open in a mimicry of shock as the end of the halberd rose back into the air, briefly taking the corpse up into the air along with it. When the weapon separated itself, it made a sticky, sucking noise, like a boot being pulled out of mud. Ayaka followed the blade's pole down and out of the alleyway to the bearer.

There stood a young girl, no more than thirteen or fourteen years old, clad in frilly black and red clothes that the otaku back in Tokyo would have listed as 'goth-lolita' style. She had long, flowing dark hair, big, almost glowing red eyes, and a wide mouth split into a maniacal grin. "Aww…" she chided, "I was hoping you'd be more passionate about it. You catch a cute girl and first you go for her money? Pa-the-tic!"

The two bandits were babbling something in Imperial, but the girl simply shook her head. The smile did not go away. Finally giving up, the man with the scar turned to run, but nearly disintegrated as the halberd punched through his torso, his blood and internal juices spraying the alley with surprising force, causing Ayaka to throw up her hands to cover her face in shock and fear. She could hear Claudius mumbling to himself, clearly too frightened to run away.

Ayaka could hear the girl step into the alley to pick up her weapon again, then turn to the final assailant and say, "Be a good boy and stand over by that wall." Claudius immediately rushed to do so.

Slowly, Ayaka lowered her shaking hands and found the other girl's face inches from her own; a face covered in blood and gore, yet still smiling as if she was at a pizza party instead of a massacre. In her panic Ayaka hadn't initially recognized her, and it was only now, with the danger seemingly passed, that the pieces of her rational mind were starting to come back. "You're-" she began, but the girl finished for her, stepping back and giving a ridiculously girly curtsey.

"Rory Mercury," she said, "Apostle of Emroy, Bringer of Death, and Itami Youji's _best friend ever,_ at your service."

While the men before had been frightening, Rory exuded a different kind of menace. The former had been dangerous in the moment. Ayaka hadn't known she was in danger until it was too late. With Rory, simply looking at the girl was enough to set alarm bells ringing in the back of her mind. Ayaka shifted to her knees and dropped into a deep bow, her forehead pressed into the bloodstained ground. "I owe you everything," she said. "If you hadn't shown up—"

"You would have flopped against that wall, taking it like the cute, innocent, Japanese high school girl you are." Rory said, "Isn't that right, Sasaki Ayaka?"

"What!?" Ayaka looked up, startled. "No! I—wait, how do you know my name?"

"I know everything about you," Rory said. "I know that you're a rebel only when you think you can get away with it. I know that you have magic abilities that you can't control because you're panicky or impatient. I know that you enjoy playing the role of the stupid teenager looking for something _real_ because you haven't realized—s"

"Mistress Rory, may-" Claudius started before Rory slammed the pointed bottom end of her halberd into the wall above his head, cratering the stone and causing small bits of debris to land on the bandit just below. "Wait your turn," Rory said with a sigh, and, turning back to Ayaka said, "Lelei has said much about you. I wonder, do you know that she enjoys your company, even if you are an obnoxious teenager? Maybe you remind her of herself."

"You're the one Lelei was talking about," Ayaka said, sitting up. "The one with the answers."

Rory raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Yes. She said-she said that you could show me something real. Something with truth and meaning and—"

A peal of laughter burst from Rory's lips. "Real?" she said. "You desire something _real?_ Okay." She pointed towards Claudius and said. "Ayaka, you're a magician, right? Go set him on fire."

Now it was Claudius who was whimpering in terror. "Mistress, please—"

"He attacked you, so go kill him," Rory said with a shrug. "We can consecrate the seared remains in Emroy's name. Emroy likes things like that."

Ayaka looked down at her hand. She was still shaking, and as upset as she was, she wasn't angry. She just wanted... _I want him to be put away and never see the light of day again._ "He doesn't need to die," Ayaka said. "Can't we call a city guard, or—"

"You wanted something real?" Rory said, tilting her head to the side. "Pain of death is very real. It's the realest thing there is. If you want to see it, go! Kill!"

"I-I don't—"

"Hmm?"

"I can't!"

"Of course you can! Do it!"

But Ayaka found herself somehow back on her feet. In her mind though, she was back in the elementary school hallway as the JGSDF helicopters flew by outside. Was that the real thing she was looking for? Fear? "No," she said, stepping away. "No, I won't. I won't!"

She rushed out into the street and was hardly twelve steps away when she heard Claudius shriek, then fall silent. Looking behind her, she saw Rory step out of the alleyway, her halberd still dripping with blood. The Apostle giggled, skipped past her, and whirled in place. "You know," she said. "What you just did there, that's pretty real too."

Ayaka blinked. "I don't understand."

Rory sighed and said, "Lelei is back in the market. Go up the street for two blocks, turn right, and follow the main road unto you get there." she slammed the end of her weapon into the ground with a loud thud, then used the moment to vault herself and it up onto the roof of a nearby house. "You will!" she called down. "Soon, _everyone_ will!"

And just like that, she was gone. Ayaka waited a minute, hoping the strange girl would return, then looked down at herself. She was a mess: disheveled, clothes torn, and covered in blood. She couldn't help but wonder if others like Claudius and his gang were around that would see her as easy prey. Ayaka didn't want to go back for her purse or her money, she just wanted the day to end. She jogged back in the direction of the market, following Rory's instructions to the letter, and soon found herself standing before her teacher.

Lelei glanced down at Ayaka's blood-soaked clothes and said, "I see you have met Rory."

Ayaka returned a tired nod.

"Did she tell you what you needed to hear?"

"I don't—none of it makes any sense!" Ayaka said. "She waited until I was attacked, and then she—and then she wanted me to—she asked me to kill people!"

Lelei nodded as if this was nothing out of the ordinary. "Did you?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Why _not?"_ Ayaka exclaimed. "Because it's wrong! You know, right and wrong? Don't you have that here? They were no longer a threat, so—" she shook her head. "It's just wrong, okay?"

Lelei narrowed her eyes and said, "Rory is an Apostle of Emory. Emroy prefers intentional slaughter over meaningless slaughter, so Rory must have had clear intent in asking you to kill them."

"She said it was because I was looking for something real, and killing people…" Ayaka took a deep breath and said, "It's real, but it's _crazy_. It's not right..."

The magician waited for her to say something else, but when she didn't, Lelei said, "She will return."

"What?"

"If you do not understand a lesson the first time, Rory usually returns. She did with my sister's mentor, and I was told she did so with Ellie. If you do not understand, she will return later."

Lelei straightened her sleeves and began to walk away. "Wait!" Ayaka said, rushing after her. "We can't just end it there! Rory killed people, I don't have my answers, and I'm covered in blood—"

"Waiting for clarity is part of life," Lelei said. "Maybe the rest of the answer will arrive tomorrow, or the day after that."

Ayaka sighed, resigned, then felt the tears starting to form in her eyes. "I just want it to make sense," she muttered. "I don't get it at all."

"You will."

"I just want _one_ thing to make more sense today."

Lelei looked down at her and said, "You had something to eat today?"

Ayaka nodded and pointed at the stall across the marketplace.

"I see," Lelei said. "That's skewered dog. Don't eat there again."

* * *

 **Outside Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam**

"Ready?"

Komakado nodded. He was unarmed, as was approrpiate for a law officer acting in a foreign country, but the members of TC V and TC2 traveling with him were very well armed. Across from him, in the van, Trihn had shed his coat from the day before and traded it for a Kevlar vest. He was in the process of making a final check on a Saiga-12 shotgun when he looked up and said, "You are to keep outside until we are ready for you."

"I know, you told me already."

Trihn frowned.

"Why? Worried an old geezer like me will run in and drop him with karate moves?"

The TC2 member returned only a thin smile. "Rather, I do not wish to increase the scope of this international operation beyond its current size. Your injury or death would complicate things."

Komakado shrugged. If anything was complicated about this process, as far as he was concerned, it was on the Vietnamese end. He had been irritated to learn that he had arrived a full day too early, and that TC2 had required the extra time to amass units. They all knew that Nguyen and the Fist of Twelve had capable IT people in their group; what if word leaked on the internet? They might be walking into a slaughter. If they wanted him to stay outside, that was fine by him.

The van lurched to a stop, the rear doors burst open and the men and their guns rushed out and over to a run-down looking warehouse. Other vans were similarly disgorging officers armed with a mixed variety of equipment. Komakado casually watched this all take place, lighting a cigarette and noting with some amusement their speed and professionalism during the simultaneous breach. He didn't get to see Japanese teams in action that often, and to see two in one week—this one and the one in Sannomiya—was an interesting treat. He leaned against the side of the van, folded his arms, and waited.

After a moment, he heard the telltale popping of gunfire and his head jerked up to look at the building. He couldn't see anything from the outside, of course, but the fact that someone had needed to shoot—

There was a hail of automatic weapons fire that lasted for a full two minutes, then silence. Nearby, Trihn shouted something into his vest radio and got a response in Vietnamese. Eventually, he turned to Komakado and said, "We're going in."

Komakado raised an eyebrow, took the cigarette out of his mouth, and pointed it at the warehouse.

"In there?"

"Where else?"

"I'm unarmed, and if you're asking my help after that much gunfire, then something has gone very wrong."

Trihn sighed and said, "You will not be harmed."

"Really?"

"He asked for you."

Komakado didn't like this at all. He wished they would give him a gun. "Was I asked for by name?"

"No. He asked for the Japanese that had been asked to go with us. He may have just guessed that you were here, since this whole incident is connected to the Gate, and bringing a Japanese consultant would have been obvious." Trihn gestured him towards the building. "We're short on time. There are lives at stake."

Inside, the building was surprisingly well-lit and well-furnished. Instead of pallets and boxes, Komakado was shocked to see cubicles, computers, and lab equipment. In one room they passed, he placed a hand on the other agent's shoulder, pointed, and said, "Do you know what's in that room over there?"

"No, what?"

"That's a scanning electron microscope. I've seen one just like it at Tokyo U." He folded his arms and said, "There's been a lot of money pumped into this place. You can't seriously tell me that your government didn't investigate or intervene before we told you about the connection to the terrorist group."

Trihn shrugged. "With this much money involved, it's not uncommon for government officials to look the other way, or for inspectors to accept cash compensation. Depending on how much tax revenue these purchases brought in, or if they donated to a politician, my superiors may have wished to ignore them. Doesn't your government do the same with the Yakuza? Don't the Americans and certain European countries do the same with their Mafias and hacking circles? I have a gun in my hand. We are addressing a problem now, the rest isn't important."

As they went deeper into the facility, the Japanese agent tried to build a complete picture from the pieces he was seeing. The people in this building weren't just running a terrorist organization. They were researching something, but what? Biological weapons? No, biological weapons meant protection and fume hoods and airtight rooms. The medical equipment around here was relatively open… cellular research then?

After a while they passed the first group of prisoners. All were wearing labcoats and masks and hairnets, and their clearly varying races suggested a number of different nationalities. Komakado wanted to stop and ask questions, but Trihn urged him forward. True, the Fist of Twelve was apparently an international organization, but this kind of international research required a lot of preparation and coordination. Furthermore, how could so many people from so many nations want to research something supposedly dangerous?

It was then that they encountered the first body. It was one of Trihn's men, and it appeared to have been a shot directly to the head. Nearby, two other men were being tended to by a medic. Ahead, a bunch of other officers were stacked up by a corner. The Vietnamese agent asked them a few questions, then he turned to Komakado and said, "He's around the corner. Some of my men are still out in the open. If possible, I need you to draw him away from the corridor, or distract him so we can get to the wounded before they die."

"Is it just Nguyen over there?"

"Apparently."

"And he took down half a dozen armed officers in close combat gear?" Komakado said. "How?"

"You will need to ask him that yourself."

The Japanese agent gave an irritated sigh. "You're asking me to become a hostage, you know."

"I'm aware. That said, I am increasingly unsure if any of us would still be alive, unless he wanted it that way."

Komakado frowned. This wasn't right. A single person couldn't take down a squad with automatic weapons, not unless he was hiding in a special position with a heavy machinegun, or something. Even then, there were tactics for flushing people like that out of their holes. He had never met anyone who could resist anything like that—

 _Not true_ , he reminded himself. _You know one person who can._

"But he's not Rory Mercury," he grumbled.

"Pardon?" Trihn said.

"Nothing. Our code word is the English word Shiny. Do not make a move until you hear the word, understood?"

As he was about to step around the corner, he shouted out in Japanese, "Nguyen-san? I am—"

"I am very sorry," a voice shouted back in English, "But my Japanese isn't that good. Can we use English?"

He looked back to Trihn, who nodded. "English is fine," Komakado replied, switching languages again. "I was saying, I am Japanese Special Agent Komakado. I am unarmed. I am going to step into the hallway now, so please do not shoot."

Komakado took a deep breath and poked his head out of cover.

Another Vietnamese man was standing at the end of the hall, a pistol lowered in one hand, and an AK-47 strapped over the other shoulder. He was wearing a labcoat which seemed torn up by bullet holes.

 _But no blood._ Komakado looked down to the scientist's pants, and noticed the same to be the case down there too. Armored pants was a rarity outside of bomb squads so how—

"Please," Nguyen said. "Step closer, I do not plan to shoot."

Steeling himself, Komakado stepped all the way out into the hallway. He could see that there were indeed two Vietnamese officers on the ground, one pinned under a metal riot shield. "There are wounded people here," Komakado said. "I would like to ask if unarmed men can come to take them away to be cared for."

"As a medical doctor, I would really like to do that," Nguyen said. "But we're short on time. I won't be here for much longer."

Komakado tensed. His first instinct was _Time Bomb_ , so he said, "Will you at least let the others evacuate the building first?"

"Oh, they aren't in any danger," Nguyen said. "Not here, at least. Not unless they try to attack me."

 _Remote detonated bomb_ , he decided. He would need to get closer and see if there was a trigger. Slowly, Komakado opened his coat to show that he was unarmed, and approached Nguyen.

"Your timing is perfect," Nguyen said. "I completed my research today and took the serum this morning. I had almost hoped that the Vietnamese government would try this, so I would have someone to gloat to."

Komakado's lip curled up into a smile that he didn't feel. "Really? What have you been doing here? I noticed all the lab equipment on the way in; you have a pretty big operation going."

Nguyen nodded excitedly. "Yes, and it was enough to meet my end goal. Tell me, how much do you know about Apostles?"

"Christian Apostles, or Special Region Apostles?"

"The latter."

Komakado reached over to one of the lab desks, pulled a swivel chair over, and sat down behind but some distance to the side of Nguyen, forcing the doctor to turn slightly to watch him. "I've met Rory Mercury," he said, "But I never had the chance to ask her many questions. Most of what I know, I read from webpages or news articles. Anyway, Apostles are chosen by Special Region Gods as representatives to do their bidding. In exchange, they get regenerative powers, extra strength, limited magic usage, and a few other neat tricks besides."

Dr. Nguyen emphatically nodded at that. "Very good. Now, what do you know about how Apostles are made?"

Komakado shrugged. "I'm a glorified police officer. Biology isn't my strongest subject."

"That's fine," Nguyen said. "The secret is a new particle found in the Special Region. In magicians, the particle interacts with a part of the brain to allow the manipulation of subatomic forces. With an Apostle, it's a bit different. Instead of relying on the brain for instructions, the particles substitute the brain patterns of the carrier. As a result, the body becomes increasingly redundant, able to take all kinds of damage, yet easily regenerate anything that goes missing."

He swept aside the hair on the side of his head, and Komakado saw a scar that spoke of either a surgical procedure, or something uncomfortable involving drills and large needles. "Wait," the Japanese agent said, "Are you telling me—"

"Yes," Nguyen said. "I am an Apostle. Technically, I'm an Apostle of Palapon… but since Palapon was killed by the other gods as a tribute to the Americans, it leaves me a free actor."

Komakado didn't want to believe what he was hearing, but it was the only thing that made sense. It was the only thing that could explain the dead or dying men in the hallway, and if that were true, then the calculus of the situation had completely changed. He had been tasked to bring in magicians and magic-wielding demihumans before, but an Apostle? According to his reasearch, the only way to capture an Apostle was to break them into pieces or crush their legs and torso…and the one Japanese team to do so had gotten extremely lucky with a tank. Killing one was supposedly impossible.

Unless TC2 had a tank sitting outside, it meant that Trihn and his men were completely outgunned. Even if they had the best guns money could buy, it wouldn't matter because their target was impervious to bullets.

"Basically, because the brain is backed up to this quantum particle field, it's impossible to kill and Apostle. Even if you destroy the physical brain, it will just grow back," Nguyen continued. "But there's an interesting component that few speak of. Did you know, Agent Komakado, that an Apostle can be elevated to a God after a thousand years or so?"

"I may have heard about it in passing but, if I'm understanding you correctly, you were made an Apostle about two years ago. You've got a long wait ahead of you."

"True," Nguyen said. "If there are enough of these particles in the air, then they will slowly start to influence the backed-up particle pattern in the Apostle's head, until the pattern is ultimately able to abandon the physical form, transfer to the Special Region's particle media wholesale, and live there, ageless, forever."

He smiled. "Originally, my interest in the Apostles was their regenerative properties, and how studying them might help cure diseases and injury around the world. After all, if all of humanity could be made like Apostles, war as we know it would become pointless. Along the way, I realized something. Humans are very inventive. If I did make everyone that powerful, they would just find new ways to make each other miserable, and the whole thing would ultimately be for nothing. If so, why _not_ go one step further? As a God, I could influence policy all over Earth. I could enforce world peace. That's _much_ better than being an Apostle."

"Not really," Komakado said. "Then you wouldn't be human any longer."

"The Gods of Falmart seem human enough."

"Having a physical body… grounds a person, if you excuse the pun. I know people in the Cybercrimes department, and it's amazing to hear about what people will do if they think they can hide behind an avatar or a username and a VPN. And that's just the internet. Having no body to attach consequences to? The power would go to your head immediately. And then there's the matter of how other people would react. Maybe you'd know better than I would, but once the Japanese and Americans knew of the gods in the Special Region, they immediately tried to find a way to bring them under control. I have heard more than enough stories from Special Region natives about Godwreckers and Hellfountains to know that becoming a God is the last thing I'd want to bring on myself.

"Besides," Komakado added. "We're not in the Special Region, so these magic particles of yours aren't around, and even if they were, you'd need another nine hundred and ninety eight years before anything came of it. Honestly, you should just come quietly and wait it out. You'll probably outlive anyone who tries to imprison you."

Nguyen shook his head. "Sadly, Mr. Komakado, we must agree to disagree on that topic. I plan on seeing my experiment through to the end. I will drag humanity to a better world if I must, and there is nothing anyone on this planet can do to stop me."

There was one option left. They still had a chance to pin Nguyen, but it would mean incapacitating him enough and long enough to keep him under control. "So that's how this goes?" Komakado said. "We all just agree to this shiny new world of yours?"

"I don't expect-"

Neither of them heard the stun grenade before it went off, and Komakado immediately dropped to the ground, arms covering his head in vague hopes that any incoming fire would be aimed up instead of down. He could feel the thump of gunfire through the floor, but didn't dare move.

After what felt like an eternity, he looked up to see…

Nguyen, large chunks blown out of his torso and one arm completely blasted off. With the other, he raised the pistol. " _None can kill me_ ," he wheezed, " _I am immor-"_

His head exploded in a shower of gore and the rest of his body dropped to the ground soon after. Trihn appeared a second later, slowly lowering the Saiga-12. He asked a question to Komakado, but the Japanese man couldn't hear him, as he was still suffering the effects of the flash-bang.

Instead, Komakado shouted up at Trihn, "He's an Apostle, keep shooting him!"

As if to help confirm the fact, Nguyen's form started to shudder, causing Trihn to jump away and spray another two rounds into the doctor, and for Komakado to throw his hands back up over his ears. "Damn it, I can barely hear!" he shouted over the din

"What do we do now?"

"Cut him into pieces, and keep the pieces separate!"

"Are you—" Nguyen began to shake again and Trihn fired off another round. "Are you crazy?"

"Do you want to die? If not, get an axe or machete and get one _quickly!_ "

Trihn shouted back towards the other officers down the hall and, on seeing them hesitate, yelled again, this time with more urgency. "Do you think this will be enough?" he asked.

"I have no idea," Komakado said. "I'm going off of stories at this point. We have never stopped an Apostle without help before."

"Should I call the Army?"

"Yes, _immediately._ "

With his free hand, Trihn pulled out his cellphone and began dialing a number. Meanwhile, Komakado picked himself back up, and as he straightened he felt the old ache in his back from the last time an Apostle had outsmarted him. He still had work to do, though. Nguyen had mentioned some kind of serum, and was inferring a kind of time limit. He made his way to the closest computer terminal and was immediately faced by a password prompt.

On a hunch, he hit the enter key without inputting any characters. Nothing happened. He tried 'Password' in English. Still no success.

Finally he flipped the keyboard over and rolled his eyes at the result. He saw this all the time with people from Falmart and older Japanese criminals. After grabbing a pen and carefully transferring the handwritten password to the margin of a nearby printout, he was able to successfully log into the computer and began looking through the files on the user's desktop.

Most of it was data charts and remarks on organic chemistry in English, none of which he could truly understand, and it wasn't until the sixth or seventh file that he found something promising. "Komakado!" Trihn called out.

"One moment!" he shouted back. This seemed to be what he was looking for, notes on something called SR-Phizons, and some phrases that matched the things Nguyen had been talking about. He just needed to—

"Komakado!"

"I said, one moment!"

The researchers here had been examining varying effects of chemical and magnetic influence on Apostle brain-substitution. Particularly, the author seemed very interested in—

"He hasn't moved!"

Komakado looked up from the computer and rushed back over to the body. "What do you mean?"

"He hasn't moved at all! It's like he just stopped! Maybe he died for real this time?"

The Japanese agent shook his head. "It doesn't work like that. You can't kill an Apostle, just subdue one."

"Then shouldn't he be regenerating?"

Indeed, the body on the floor seemed to be completely still. Was this a trap? Was Nguyen just waiting for them to lower their guard?

Trihn's radio squawked and he picked it up, listened to the person on the other end, and said, "We need to go outside,"

"But what about Nguyen?"

"That no longer matters. We need to go outside. _Now._ " To illustrate his point, Trihn turned on his heel and ran.

Uninterested in staying with the body of a potentially-dead apostle, Komakado raced after the TC2 officer until they were standing outside the warehouse. "I could barely hear him," Trihn said, "But did I hear correctly? He was saying that he was trying to ascend and become a God?"

"Yes, yes, but that's not possible here. There's the time limit, and there's no Phizons in the air…"

But even as he said that, he couldn't help but recall the girl from Sannomiya, Sasaki Ayaka, who had tried to burn his face off. Nguyen had said that magicians just needed access to this particle to be able to use magic, so if the number of particles in the air was dense enough to allow a girl like her to exist…

And then the paper from the computer, he had noticed one key word, repeated over and over in the abstract, the English word _Accelerate._

"Look!" Trihn said, pointing, "In the sky, over there!"

Komakado looked up. Above Ho Chi Mihn City, it seemed like a patch of sky was starting to bubble and twist. He had seen this effect before, on rare occasions, in Tokyo Bay, just before or after a JMSDF vessel deployed to the Special Region.

Nguyen's body no longer mattered. He had left, just as he said he would.

The thing in the sky…

Trihn looked to him, his face full of confusion as he pointed at the steadily growing object, the center of which was starting to collapse in on itself to some unseen space. "Isn't that—"

"Yes," Komakado said. "That's a Gate."

And then, all hell broke loose.


	9. Chapter 8 - Insertion Burn

**Berlin, Germany**

Paul Schertz of the Berliner Polizei could not believe his eyes.

Up until a few minutes prior, the air over Tempelhof Field had been empty and still. Now, nearly at ground level, a swirling vortex had appeared, growing larger and deeper with each passing second.

He pushed to the front of a group of gawking citizens, many with their cellphones out and recording to various social media platforms. Whatever this thing was, it wasn't supposed to be here, and he hadn't been informed of any art exhibitions or entertainment programs scheduled for this place and time. Maybe someone from the nearby Museum of Technology would have a better understanding, but for now, the best option was to keep everyone away. "Everyone, stay back, please!" he shouted, waving the crowds off to give the phenomenon some space. "Until we get a specialist team here, please—"

He heard a roar from behind him—not that of an engine or crowd, but an actual beast. Schertz glanced over his shoulder and, to his shock and horror, saw it. It was a massive, salamander-like creature with thick scales and reptilian eyes. When it breathed, it blew sparks from its nostrils.

 _Impossible,_ he thought, but there it was, picking up speed, bearing down on the cluster of civilians gathered in front of the portal. Shertz drew his gun and shouted, "RUN!"

As the civilians behind him took flight, he pointed the firearm and the advancing beast, feeling like an ant trying to stop an elephant. The gun in his hand felt far too small, as did the time remaining.

He enough time to notice the second giant salamander following the first before shouting into his radio, "This is Schertz!" he cried, "I need reinforcements!"

"How many?" his dispatcher asked.

'"Everyone!" he shouted, "Call the damn _Bundeswehr,_ we're under attack!"

In the last ten seconds of his life, Schertz emptied his entire Glock into the face of the monstrous Salamander, to no avail.

* * *

 **Sydney, Australia**

Lieutenant Commander Ethan Taylor gunned the engines on the _HMAS Larrakia_ , pushing it to get down Parramatta River as fast as its twin diesel engines could take it, which to Taylor was nowhere near fast enough. Even from this distance, he could see that the Anzac-class _HMAS Stewart_ had approached the swirling vortex and was already engaged with one of the creatures that had emerged; an armored, many legged thing that reminded Taylor of a Nautilus was already grasping the bow of the vessel. As he watched, it tried to haul itself up onto the deck of the frigate, only to take a point-blank blast to the face from the _Stewart's_ five inch gun.

Taylor wasn't quite sure what the commander intended to do with the _Larrakia's_ comparatively measly M242 Bushmaster, but the feeling was the same to everyone aboard. They had heard the calls from the civilian and military ground forces as they tried to fend off attack after attack, some cheering as another monster went down, others going sickeningly silent after filling the airwaves with their screams. That's all there was, that continual feeling that no matter what they did, they had to do _something._

That's when they saw it; a smaller creature that seemed to skate over the waves but had way too many teeth was heading for the _Stewart_ , it's darting motions reminding him of the suicide-bomber zodiacs that they had trained to intercept so many times in the past. The minute they were in range, the Commander called, "Fire!" and the M242 went into action with a heavy _thunk_... _thunk...thunk_ as each shot sent 25mm shells rocketing downrange.

* * *

 **Houston, United States**

As CAPCOM, Lucas McKennan knew that the astronauts aboard the Space Station were as unsettled as he was, if not more so. The moment the Gate had opened just south of the Sam Houston Tollway, the Flight Director had declared an emergency and instructed Mission Controllers to run the handover sequences that would effectively transfer control of the ISS to the Marshal Center in Huntsville, Alabama.

Aboard the space station, the commander, and ESA astronaut named Davault was supposedly following the emergency preparations to fly the station 'In the Blind' if the need arose. The cosmonauts aboard had been unsuccessful in establishing contact with Russian controllers in Moscow, and with McKennan hearing whispers of more and more Gates opening all over the planet, he was fearing the worst. "Is there any news from Europe?" Davault asked for the third time.

"Nothing solid," McKennan lied. "You keep focused on your task, I'll let you know as soon as we hear something." The truth was that a dozen major cities in Europe were burning, and if Davault couldn't already tell that by poking his head into the copula, then there was nothing worth telling. They needed the attention of the commander and the crew on securing their own safety, and that of the Hundred-billion dollar space station they were flying on.

"We wish we could do something to help you people down there," the commander said.

"Thanks Gerald. Flight just passed me a note; if you lose us and you don't reacquire Marshall or Moscow in one week, you are to abandon the station."

McKennan heard screams from somewhere outside. "They might knock us out soon. If they do, Godspeed. If not, can you confirm RCS CPC to AUX auto?"

"Affirmative, that's RCS CPC to—"

The spacecraft communicator never heard the rest, as the roof suddenly caved in, forcing McKennan to dive under his desk. Through a thin slit in the debris, he could just barely make out the shape of a giant, scaled red claw.

* * *

 **Moscow, Russia**

President Aleksandr Zyuganov closed the binder and looked up at the collection of Generals and Statesmen that surrounded him. He said, "I am going to say this once, and only once. Are we certain that it was not the Chinese or Americans?"

The nuclear bunker below the Kremlin had not been used in decades, and the décor of the meeting room had an old, brutalist, Soviet flavor. It was garish, but it was also very safe.

Foreign Minister Kolya Balanov spoke up first. "We have not received any word from either country, nor are Kosvinsky Kamen or Mount Yamantau reporting significant force movements at our borders."

Zyuganov turned to look at the head of the FSB and said, "Didn't you say the Americans had some kind of weapon that uses Gates?"

The old FSB officer shook his head and said, "We have heard rumors that the Americans may have exactly one such device. We are under attack in Moscow _and_ Saint Petersburg, and if you turn on the TV and look at Channel One, it is apparent that many countries are under attack, not just us. If this is the American device, then clearly it is broken."

"American machines don't break that easily," Balanov argued.

The FSB director rolled his eyes. "Clearly you have never used Windows."

Several people laughed, and others grinned, but as a whole, Zyuganov felt nothing but pride for his countrymen. Even under pressure, they were staying calm and collected. Years of preparing for a violent war with the West made it so that, though the situation above them was tenuous, it did not seem unsurvivable. Hundreds of Civil Protection bunkers throughout the city meant that Moscow was a fortress, and her people would survive whatever history threw at it.

He wondered if the cities of NATO could say the same.

* * *

 **London, United Kingdom**

The instructions had been abundantly clear. "The enemy must not cross the Thames. They must be prevented at any cost."

From the 90th floor of The Shard, Lieutenant-Colonel Leighton was part of the last line of defense in accomplishing that goal. The Gate in Burgess Park had left British Command scrambling to respond, but with what looked like armored trolls already crashing through Walworth, the response had been hectic. Leighton could see another wave of monsters through his binoculars and engaged his radio. "I've got more of them traveling up the A3 towards London Bridge."

The officer on the other end replied with a simple click of their microphone. That was probably all they had time for, with reports pouring in from virtually everywhere south of the river. Not good enough. "They'll be here in ten minutes," Leighton added.

As if in immediate response, the window panels before him seemed to shudder as an RAF Eurofighter Typhoon dropped out of the clouds. The Lieutenant watched as the jet strafed the entire road with its Mauser BK-27, chewing up a number of its targets before rocketing back up into the gloom once more.

There were too many enemies, and not enough jets. He had bought the men in the ground some time, but the enemy forces would eventually reach a bridge… and then he had a decision to make.

He looked next to him at the remote detonators sitting on the office desk. As a final option, he had the authority to knock out every bridge from Blackfriars to St. Katharine. Some of those bridges might still have soldiers on them.

Leighton prayed that it wouldn't come to that.

* * *

 **JSDF Garrison, Alnus, the Special Region**

"Sir, you really should get back to the CIC—"

"General Hazama may have been willing to command from inside a windowless room, but I am not," Kengun spat. The garrison was a rush of activity, with soldiers rushing to all the major checkpoints and helicopters taking flight. He wished he could be on one of them, with a clear view of the situation below. It had been effective in Italica, Sadera, and Alnus, and he would have liked to have the option available to him here, regardless of what was thrown at him. "Have we received any ultimatums?"

"We have a team out looking for Rory," the Major replied. "But the people on Ichijima say that Giselle was surprised by the news."

Kengun tried to recall if Rory had every mentioned the Gods withholding information from their Apostles and came up empty. "Have the Americans made their move?"

"No, sir. Their missile launchers are all in standby mode, and there are no reports of the… of the nuclear fire generator your observed over Ichijima."

"If the Gods aren't generating the Gates, who is!?"

The Major had no answers, of course. He needed specialized information. He needed someone with a vast experience with Gates, and he needed them _now._ "Where's Lelei?"

"She's in Sadera, with Sasaki-chan."

"Damn. Send a small group, try to intercept them and let them know what's going on. While you're at it, contact the team guarding Kouhara. I'll need to explain to her why she can't go back to Tokyo just yet."

As the Major rushed to the door, Kengun shouted after him, "And you are _certain_ that not a single new Gate has opened up in the Special Region?"

* * *

 **Outside of Tokyo, Japan**

"Turn on the news." The way Kuragin's voice growled out of her cellphone told Carol that it was urgent, so she rushed into her small apartment living room and flipped to NHK.

On the screen several buildings were on fire, and the cameraman showed people running through the streets, abandoning cars and bicycles in place, anything that would allow them to run away from…

The camera zoomed in on something that looked like a giant spider, but Carol knew better. She had seen a very similar creature once before, many years ago.

From behind her she heard a gasp and turned to see Greta, wrapped up in a bathrobe after a shower, her eyes wide with alarm and her hands pressed against her face—perhaps waiting to catch the scream that was surely on its way.

Before, Greta had called the monster Xeronth of the Abyss. That was about thirty seconds before a member of the USAF 24th Special Tactics Squadron had ripped it to shreds with a GAU-17/A. It had been dead for nearly a decade.

A dead monster from the Special Region was attacking people in Japan.

As if to prove the point, the apartment shook as a fighter jet from Hokkaido rocketed overhead. "There are Gates opening up all over the planet," Kuragin said. "A few minutes ago they were saying in the news that there were also Gates in Seoul, Shanghai, Ho Chi Mihn City—"

"They're going to call us."

"What?"

"They're going to call us," Carol said, her voice flat. "Get your papers together and a suitcase and meet me and Greta at Tsubasa Space Center. Pass the word to Youmei. Do not take a bus or train, just in case another Gate opens closer to Tokyo."

"Understood. Good luck!"

Carol ended the call and, after glancing back to the TV screen for a moment, went over to Greta. Her protégé hadn't moved from her spot.

"Greta," she said, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder. "I need you to listen to me very carefully. Can you do that?"

Greta didn't utter a single word, but she did slowly nod.

"We are not in danger. In Alnus, there was a limited garrison of JSDF troops. Here, you have the entire Japanese Army, Navy, and Air Force, and lots of American military assets too. The thing on the screen is two hundred miles away. Do you understand?"

Greta nodded again.

"I need you to get dressed, and pack a small suitcase with enough clothes and toiletries to last you for three days."

She nodded once more.

"There is a chance that the Japanese or American government will want our help—"

This time, Greta furiously shook her head.

"They won't—"

"They'll take me away again," Greta moaned.

Carol should have expected this to happen. It was impossible to guess that a disaster like this would strike Japan a second time, but Greta's reaction was the Gala all over again. When they got home, Carol had resolved it by getting her so drunk that she couldn't see straight. That option didn't exist this time. "I told you before, and I'll tell you again," she said, pulling Greta into a hug, "I will not let them take you. We are going to stay together from now on."

But even as she said the words, Carol didn't entirely believe it herself. If the United States was under attack too, then the government would want answers, and she and Greta's connection to the Special Region meant that they could be brought in for questioning. Right now, their best bet was to reach Tsukuba Space Center and place Greta behind as many foreign nationals as possible.

As another fighter jet passed overhead, Carol couldn't help but wonder what Clayton was doing during all of this. She imagined that, wherever he was, he was probably already cooking up the next awful scheme.

* * *

 **30,000ft above Iowa, United States**

Clayton had flown on hundreds of planes and helicopters between his time in the military, his time in the NRO, and his time working for the Executive Branch, but never in all of his years had he experienced a takeoff quite like _that_.

Seconds after their wheels had left the runway, the plane pointed up at such a high angle and accelerated with such a speed that an irrational part of his mind feared that the plane was about to stall or break apart. His more rational background prevailed; this was normal procedure. In the event of an imminent or ongoing attack on the United States, Air Force One was tasked to get the President and his staff up in the air and the hell away from potential targets while a counterattack was organized. Clayton was technically not part of Mahana's staff, but he had been asked to join the President in Iowa to make the rounds and meet the most promising contenders from his party. As a result, when the Secret Service had interrupted Mahana in the middle of a sponsor lunch, Clayton had been in the right place at the right time to go with him.

Eventually the plane leveled out and the seatbelt sign was turned off. Clayton took the opportunity to reach over the CNN correspondent sitting next to him and yank open one of the cabin windows.

Flying off the plane's left wing were a pair of F-22s, and in the distance he could see the glowing specks of additional aircraft keeping watch.

"Any idea what's going on?" The reporter asked him.

Clayton looked at her and said, "No, not really, but if you're looking for a story, you might as well start with this fact; the last time Air Force One had to climb like that was September 11, 2001."

He could see the blood starting to drain from the reporter's face. At a glance, she looked old enough to have been in High School back then "So, we're under attack?"

Before he could say anything else, a member of the Secret Service arrived at their row. "The President wants you in the Situation Room," he said.

Clayton nodded, unbuckled his seatbelt, and followed the agent down the aisle, past the office staff compartment, and after presenting his ID was ushered into the conference room ahead.

"—tracking at least eight Gates in New York, Houston, Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Jacksonville, Denver, and Chicago. We are also tracking bogeys over Seattle, but we don't know if that was the target or Vancouver." The Air Force General giving the briefing looked up at Clayton, nodded, then turned back to the President. "This attack is aimed squarely at population centers rather than military targets, and may be designed to cripple us economically, rather than militarily."

There were no empty chairs left in the room, so Clayton took an open space on the wall between an Assistant National Security Advisor and an Air Force Lieutenant holding the discomforting black bag known as the Nuclear Football.

"And the armed forces are responding?" Mahana said.

"All bases are responding, and the call has gone out to the Reserves and anyone on leave. The most immediate response has been from elements of the Air Force, Naval Air, and various Air National Guard units, but ground elements of the Army, National Guard, and Marine Corps are just arriving in many cases."

"And it's not just us, right?"

"We have reports of cities being targeted across the globe, sir. No obvious political pattern either; this thing is hitting the Russians and Chinese too."

"So it's not Russia or China doing this."

"We don't believe so, sir."

"Then who is?"

"We don't know yet."

Mahana placed a hand on his forehead, and to Clayton it looked like the man desperately wanted to start screaming, but couldn't. That was the nature of the job, after all.

"We have dragons and ogres and giant insects slaughtering Americans from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and you have _no_ leads? Clayton! These Gates are your thing, what the hell is happening here?"

 _As if I'm supposed to know?_ Clayton's mind had been racing through the entire conversation, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. He looked over at the General giving the briefing and said, "You're _sure_ that these are Gates?"

"Yes."

"Has there been any word from the Special Region?"

"The Japanese put their original Gate into lockdown while they handle an invasion in Osaka," one of the other aides said. "There's no messages about a disruption from our men in Alnus or Ichijima, and the Assistant Ambassador messaged me a minute ago wondering what all the fuss is about, and if they should start counter-God procedures."

The President looked to Clayton for an answer, but the more Clayton thought about it, the less this attack made sense. "I do not think that the Gods of Falmart are behind this," he said.

"Why, do you know anyone else that can make Gates?"

Clayton wasn't about to mention ADMIT FUSCHIA, the Tactical Gate Device, in front of a room largely made up of civilians. He knew enough about the project to know that they could only open one Gate at a time, not the dozens that had appeared around the world. Lelei, the sole magician who could make Gates on her own, had a similar limitation. "No."

"Then how do you know that it _isn't_ the Special Region Gods?"

Clayton held up a hand to count off reasons. "First, during the engagement with Hardy's forces in 2017, the Gods exhausted an entire continent worth of monsters against Alnus. Even if all of those monsters were replaced in the last nine years, they would not match the sheer volume of enemies attacking Earth right now.

"Second, the Gates themselves create sub-spatial instability, which is why we put so much money into being able to shrink and dilate the Gate at Ginza. The Gods wouldn't want to open up more Gates because it would increase the risk of damage to their own planet. The whole reason for Hardy's attack in 2017 was to _shut_ the Gate for this very reason.

"Third and most importantly, the particles that form the Gods, SR-Phizons, do not exist in significant enough amounts—"

He stopped. That _might_ not be entirely true. After all, Carol Dawson had said that the JSDF was investigating increased Phizon levels in the air on the Earth side of the Gate. Could it be…

A phone on the table buzzed and the Air Force General picked it up. He listened for a while, then returned it to its cradle. With a concerned look, he slowly turned to the President and said, "NRO reports that the Chinese have Dongfeng ICBM platforms in launch position."

For five seconds, the only noise in the room was the sound of the 747's jet engines. Mahana sat back in his chair, slowly tilted his head down, and said, "Are they aiming them at us?"

"It's impossible to tell at this stage, sir."

"But we're not aiming at them, are we?"

"The country is under attack, Mr. President. We are already at DEFCON 2. Beijing may have misconstrued it as us using a Gate attack as the opening move of a war."

Mahana looked back at Clayton and said, "But didn't you say—"

"The Chinese have no way of knowing what I have said in this room," Clayton said. "If you want that to change, then I believe you have a phone call to make."

Not that they had to. The desk phone rang again and this time the President picked it up. "Yes?"

He listened for a moment, then looked up, nodded, and the rest of the men at the table reached for handsets so they could listen in. _Here we are,_ Clayton thought. _The most dangeorus game…_

"Yes, yes Mr. Liao… yes, I am aware of the situation," Mahana took his glasses off and tapped them on the table, either out of nerves or habit, Clayton wasn't sure. "To be honest, we're as upset as you are, and we have no idea where...I assure you that all of our troop movements are in defense of our own people and allies. I understand—no, _truly_ I understand that this must be making you nervous, and I have no desire to make things worse than they already are...we are working on it. I understand. I will have my people tell your people if we find anything, and please… yes, thank you. Of course. Thank you, Mr. Liao."

Nearly in unison, the people at the table returned their handsets to their places. "We have twenty-four hours to come up with an explanation," the President said.

Just as the panic was about to start up again, another Air Force officer burst into the room and declared, "They're vanishing! The Gates are vanishing!"

Mahana was instantly on his feet. 'Are you certain?"

"Yes, sir! CNN and FOX are reporting that the Gates over Denver and New York are already gone, and BBC caught the one near London just as it was fading."

The President looked around at the accumulated staff, then locked eyes with Clayton who shrugged. Mahana sighed, pulled a remote control out of a drawer, and pointed it to the television at the far end of the room.

"—reports coming in from around the world that the portals are either vanishing or have vanished," the CNN Anchor was saying. The newsroom was empty, save for the one reporter, who was wearing a hardhat, reminding Clayton that this poor sap was probably risking his life by broadcasting from the big, open New York studio instead of sheltering in place in a hallway. "Elements of the armed forces are continuing to fight off monsters on the ground, but it looks as if the global assault is nearing its end. We'll try to get a hold of Connor again. Connor, are you there?"

The screen jumped to another reporter, hunkered down at what looked like, to Clayton, the front hall of the New York Stock Exchange. "Yes, Jim, we're being told by the NYPD that the Gate at Washington Square Park appears to be fading out of existence, and Army elements from Fort Hamilton and Fort Dix have contained the monsters to Lower Manhattan. They continue to ask that everyone stay inside, keep far away from doors and windows, and to keep quiet until they send an all-clear through the state EAS—"

There was an explosion of gunfire from somewhere behind him, and Connor glanced nervously over his shoulder. "I—uh—I'm used to covering the DOW and NASDAQ, so this is a bit more action than I'm used to."

"You're doing great Connor."

"Thanks. I guess it goes without saying, but the market closed early today. If this is anything like the last time New York was… well, it will probably be closed for a while..." Connor looked up and said, "My director is telling me that National Guard APCs will be here shortly, and we may be asked to move. We're going off the air for a few minutes, stay safe over there Jim."

Mahana turned off the screen and looked around the room. "There's no guarantee that the Chinese will pull their threat of a perceived counterattack. If you're in this room and you're military, I want you to wrap up whatever fights are going on, and prepare in case we get more. If you're civilian, I want you to get together everyone who even looked at a post-it note on Gate physics, and have an answer to what the hell just happened in the next four hours."

As people began to filter out of the room, Clayton recalled the one piece he had been puzzling over before the Chinese had interrupted. "I have a theory," he told the President, "but I'm going to need some heavy computing power on short notice to confirm it. It will go a lot faster if you make the call for me."

Mahana snorted. "Why, who do you need me to call, NASA?"

Clayton shook his head. "NOAA."

* * *

 **Lim Chu Lang Road,** **Singapore**

Valerie Liang hauled herself out of the cramped cockpit of her F-16C/D, raced down the ladder, and doffed her helmet before accepting a bottle of water from a member of the ground crew. She promptly opened the bottle and dumped it all over her head.

This was not Sembawang or Paya Lebar Air Base. Either of those options would have been better, but one was still fending off attackers, and the other was swamped with incoming aircraft. She had been forced to land her fighter on a converted stretch of road where she had landed only once before, during training Exercise Torrent. That had been in broad daylight, instead of the dim twilight that was starting to fill the skies and shadow the ground.

The crew chief ran over to her and asked, "How was it up there?"

"Bad," she said. "I must've downed two dragons before I ran out of munitions. Heat-seekers don't work on them, no clue if my guns got through, and the radar return on those things is atrocious. You might as well be shooting at birds."

"The rest of the island, I mean."

Valerie took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. "It's… it's not good, chief. Half of Queenstown is on fire. The army's pushing back into the area, but the civilians there had virtually no warning..."

"The Gate's closed, at least," the Chief said, "And we're coordinating with the Indonesians over anything that passes into their airspace. As long as the damn thing doesn't reopen, we just might have this."

Valerie nodded, wiped her brow with the back of her hand, and looked to the East. Even from this distance, she could see lines of tracer fire slicing through the deepening night sky. "It had better," she muttered. "For now, get me back up in the air. There's still a lot of work to do."

* * *

 _Minor note:_

Thank you to SpaceFox1935 for correctly pointing out that RT, while Russian owned, does not actually broadcast in Russia. I have updated that line accordingly.


	10. Chapter 9 - Dark Side

**SEVERAL HOURS LATER**

 **Italica, the Special Region**

Ayaka woke several hours later in a hotel room in Italica, unaware that anything was out of the ordinary. They had traveled many hours to cross the distance between Sadera and Italica in one night, and despite the fact that it was in a 4-wheel drive truck, she felt like she had covered the whole distance herself on foot. After dropping her off at a hotel, Lelei had left without so much as a single word.

Therefore, she was surprised to find not Lelei in the hotel lobby, but Tomita. On seeing her, the Warrant Officer put away his cell phone and walked over to greet her. "Hi," he said. "There has been an incident."

"Eh?" Ayaka looked around and asked. 'Where's Lelei- _sensei_?"

"She's attending an urgent meeting. What I have to say is not good news, and you might want to take this sitting down."

 _Not good news?_ Ayaka's mind raced as she tried to determine what Tomita was talking about. It could mean all kinds of things. Had the foreign Ministry decided to take her back to Tokyo? Had something happened to Lelei? Had she said or done something wrong in Sadera?

Had something gone wrong at home?

"Yesterday night," Tomita said, "Japan was attacked."

Ayaka could feel her gut sink. Surely that meant China or North Korea or Russia. Did Tokyo still exist? Did the _Gate_ to Tokyo still exist?

Slowly, Tomita gave her the details. It had only been Osaka, but the attack had spread across Osaka Bay as far as Amagasaki before it had been stopped. Lots of people had died, the country was in a state of shock, and nobody knew if another attack was coming or not. Even scarier, the attack in Kansai was one of several dozen, spread all across the globe. None of the more prominent nations were spared.

But Tomita did not talk about what Ayaka wanted to hear the most. "How is everyone taking it?"

Tomita shrugged. "Remarkably well, actually. Lots of thoughts and prayers from everyone to everyone else. I saw many conversations on online forums, people telling each other how to survive until emergency services arrived, what to do if the power was still out in their area, and so on. Japan and many other nations are deep in discussion in an attempt to solve the problem, and many of the world's militaries are cooperating through existing channels. For now, Japan is treating it as an alien invasion and not blaming anyone, but we are seeking a reason for how this could have happened. Lelei is meeting with Prime Minister Kouhara and Defense Minister Nomura, which is why she wasn't here to meet you this morning."

Ayaka nodded as she struggled to sort through her feelings. On the one hand, many people had died. On the other hand, she was thrilled. The thing she had seen so many years ago, when the Gate opened in Ginza, had returned. The petty bullshit was gone.

But that moment of elation was struck down by the memory of a 900-year old girl who sweetly declared, " _You want something real? Pain of death is very real. It's the realest thing there is!_ "

That couldn't be right; she had no desire to kill people—most normal people didn't—and yet apparently death and destruction were needed to get people to treat each other as humans.

Rory's words made no more sense than they did the day before.

"Your parents are doing alright, by the way. Neither of them were in Kansai, and both wanted you to know that your extended family is also in good health. We told them that you are doing fine on your behalf…" he sat back in his seat. "Odd."

"What?"

"I was expecting that to be your first question. Aren't you worried about anyone back at home?"

Ayaka folded her arms. "I…I don't know how to feel. It's nice to hear that they weren't hurt, but… what if nothing changes?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if… what if it's like Ginza all over again, and everyone forgets by next week?"

Tomita shook his head. "This is the worst thing to happen in a long time. I don't think anyone will be forgetting this for a while."

* * *

 **Washington D.C., United States**

By the morning, things had not gotten any better.

Air Force One had ultimately landed at Andrews Air Force Base to the largest military enterouge Clayton had seen outside of peacetime. He and a number of others had been ushered all the way to the White House, where he had waited anxiously for the past few hours to get his results back from NOAA.

Meanwhile, he had kept an eye on the news. Estimates from various stations listed American civilian deaths as anything between a hundred thousand and a quarter million. The only comparable disaster was the Spanish Flu pandemic a century before, and all of these deaths had happened in a single day.

And that was just the United States. The cities in China and India that had suffered Gate attacks had denser populations, and some countries with smaller air forces were fighting all night long to contain the monsters until ground forces could show up. Monsters from a Gate in Nairobi had still not been entirely eradicated, and was only that morning being dispatched by a multinational force operating out of bases in Djibouti. In all, the global death toll would probably be between two and three million…and that did not account for untold thousands who would likely succumb to injuries as they waited on overwhelmed medical personnel.

The only pattern in the attacks, as had been noted the day before, was that targets seemed to be major population centers, rather than infrastructure or military installations. Death seemed to be the only objective.

When Clayton was finally admitted to the Oval Office, the couches were crowded with members of the Department of Defense, all trying to relay information and coordinate responses to the best of their ability. Defense Secretary Barton, upon seeing Clayton at the door, closed up his laptop, walked over, and said, "I know it's an old cliché, but I was just a few months from retirement. Just my luck, eh?"

"What can I say? If emergencies happened at convenient times, they wouldn't be emergencies, would they?" Clayton said, causing the Secretary of Defense to grin and shake his head.

At the room's main desk, Mahana was shouting into his phone. "Nearly a quarter million Americans died yesterday, and you're wasting my time with this bullshit!? _How fucking dare you!_ You tell the Senate Minority leader to take her head out of her ass and focus on the fact that some of those were _her_ constituents too!" He slammed the phone back onto its cradle and, looking up at Clayton, said, "Please tell me you have something."

Clayton placed the report on the table. "Before I returned from Japan, I met with a NASA engineer named Carol Dawson regarding an inquiry made by the Japanese government. Apparently, there was a concern that SR-Phizons were leaking into our world from the Special Region. I didn't think about it much at first, since if it's only affecting Japan, it's not of much interest to us. Before she left, Dawson recommended asking NOAA about it, which made me think that there might be more to the story."

He opened to a page in the report. This showed a map of the Earth centered on the Pacific Ocean, with arrows pointing in a generally Easterly direction, starting from above Japan and circling over North America, Europe, and most of Asia before making it back to the far East. Other arrows showed intermixing, resulting in smaller arrows heading in other directions. "What is all of this?" the President asked.

"This is a global map of upper-level wind patterns, and was designed to model the spread of nuclear fallout from the Fukushima disaster back in 2011." He traced a finger from Japan, towards Hawaii, then North America, Europe, and across Asia. "Think of the Gate as a busted nuclear reactor. It has been periodically leaking SR-Phizons into Earth's atmosphere over the past ten years or so. That's more than enough time for SR-Phizons to be distributed across the globe.

"There are only two kinds of ways to make a Gate, either be a God, or be someone that received instructions from a God. As far as we know, there are only four countries that have people who might have been informed of Gate creation after direct contact with Gods or their Apostles. These include the Falmart Republic, the Japanese, ourselves, and Vietnam."

Mahana raised an eyebrow. "Vietnam?"

"One of their citizens, Dr. Thi Van Nguyen, had direct contact with the SR God Palapon, which you may recall prompted a meeting between the three of us, Minister Nomura, and General Kengun two years ago," Barton explained. "He may or may not have been told about the methods involved during that time. He dropped off the grid soon after returning to Vietnam."

"Do you think the Chinese picked him up?"

"Doubtful. If they had gotten anything useful out of him, then we would have seen the PLA acquiring a number of key materials and tools, much like how a sudden interest in centrifuges and yellowcake warns us that a country is developing atomic weapons."

The President was shrewd enough to catch Barton's inference, so he just nodded and said, "Okay, so going back to this weather thing?"

"I have two theories," Clayton said. "The only magical beings that could open that many Gates would need to be a Special Region God. This means that either a God leaked through to our world from the Special Region, or one formed here on Earth."

Mahana frowned. "We're fighting _God?_ "

" _A_ God, not _the_ God," Clayton emphasized. "It's a sentient creature that can be reasoned with and, if need be, injured."

Mahana looked over his shoulder at the grounds beyond the West Wing. "Anyone reasonable would not have attacked all the conventionally powerful countries on the planet at the same time. I need to know who we're dealing with, and if they are one of these God-things, how to kill it."

Clayton cringed at the last two words. "About that…I said we could injure one. Killing a God poses… problems…"

"Why?"

"The most effective deterrent against the Gods in the Special Region is nuclear radiation," Clayton said.

"Okay, so we nuke the fucker."

"Gods are spread out over a planetary Phizon cloud. In the Special Region, we flush all the air from aircraft cabins with bottled stuff from Earth if we don't want to be overheard," Barton explained. "If you wanted to eliminate a God, you would need to irradiate everywhere the Phizon cloud occupied."

Mahana looked to Clayton for the simple version, so the Ambassador replied, "You would need to nuke the entire planet."

"I read in a brief that the Falmart god—Pal-whatever—was killed."

"The other Gods killed him," Clayton said. "They have pinpoint control that we don't have."

"There's got to be an alternative," Mahana said. "I am _not_ going to solve this by blowing up the Earth."

"We can contact the Department of Energy and Fermilab," Barton said, but even as he said it, he didn't seem convinced of his own words. The D.O.E. had no way of identifying _who_ the supposed god was, nor would they have a novel way of defeating it on short notice. If the unknown entity didn't attack before that point, China just might.

"Not good enough," Clayton said.

"Well then," Mahana said, "Do _you_ know anyone who can defuse a nuclear disaster?"

The Ambassador's face lit up with a big grin. "Actually, Mr. President…"

* * *

 **Tsubasa Space Center, Japan**

"Damn, damn, DAMN IT ALL!" Youmai shouted as he kicked the lab bench. "We were so close, SO CLOSE to getting the Phizon detector flying, and now? It will be like the Apollo program all over again, with Space cancelled over someone's stupid war."

"We do not know that this was an intentional attack," Kuragin pointed out. "It could be a natural phenomenon."

The four of them had gathered in one of the space center planning rooms. On one side of the room, Youmei paced back and forth like a captured tiger. Nearby, Kuragin was following the news on a laptop, cool and stoic, twirling a stylus between two fingers. At the other end of the table, Carol was making notes on a notepad as Greta stood in a nearby corner, looking out the window onto the Space Center campus which was just now being lit by an early dawn. All four were in various disheveled states, having rushed from their homes or apartments to arrive as quickly as possible. After an uncomfortable night of sleeping at desks or on benches, none of them were feeling that great, and even the cup of coffee Carol was nursing didn't make the world seem much brighter. Death tolls were pouring in from around the world and the number was still climbing.

"What I don't understand is how no one anticipated this," Carol said, looking at her notes. "There must have been signs. Someone in Japan or America must have studied Gates as a science."

"There's no anticipating the Gods," Greta muttered. "They do what they want, whenever they want, with no regard for the people they squash underneath."

"You really think it's a God?"

Slowly, Greta nodded. "When people… when I've seen Lelei make a Gate, it was done with care and deliberation, and there was only one of them. To make so many Gates and cause so much destruction...living people don't do things like that, not unless they are cruel or insane. Some Gods like La and Lunayur are able to approach the world peacefully, but cruelness and insanity is far, far, _far_ more common."

The stylus fell out of Kuragin's hand. "What if…" he said, then began typing hurriedly on his computer, before shouting, "Hah, I knew it!"

The other three looked at him for and explanation, so he flipped his laptop around and presented them with an image of the world filled with arrows. "Trade winds!" he declared. "Don't you remember, that woman from the army, what was her name…?"

Carol blanked for a few seconds, then the answer popped into her head. "Takagi? Oh!" she stood and said. "This is about SR Phizons!"

"Precisely!" Kuragin said, his face firm and resolute. "Phizons carried around the world on the Westerlies and Trade Winds. Ms. Takagi was very interested in the particles accumulating here. You say that these Gods are magic beings? Well, now we clearly have enough Phizons to support one here. Perhaps the Japanese government knew in advance!"

"Impossible!" Youmei said. "If they knew, they would have placed the army in Osaka to greet the threat."

"But they did know _something,_ " Carol said. "Professor Youmei, do you have any contacts with the JSDF that might be able to give us an answer?"

"There is a certain forcibly-retired General who was my kouhai in college. He might know someone." Youmei pulled out his cellphone and began a hurried, if hushed conversation with a person on the other end. "Interesting," he said after hanging up. "Kochiro says that there was an ongoing investigation into the Fist of Twelve terrorist group, and that there was a great deal of aggravation over coordinating with law enforcement in Vietnam."

Remarkably, it was neither Dawson nor Kuragin that reacted first, but Greta. "Vietnam!" she said. "You mean, the place Dr. Nguyen is from!?"

"Who?" Kuragin asked.

"Itami and General Kengun seemed really worried about him during the war with Rondel," Greta explained. "He leaked technology secrets to them during the rebellion, and it caused all kinds of trouble during the air battle. Flat said that he was trying to make a contract with Palapon, the God of—" her jaw dropped open and she dropped into a nearby chair. "Oh no. Oh no no no no no."

"Palapon?" Carol said, trying to recall. "That's… let's see… that's the god of revenge— _oh._ "

Greta nodded profusely. "God of Revenge, _no known Apostle._ If Palapon wanted revenge against Earth for killing him, what better way to do it than secretly make Dr. Nguyen an Apostle?"

"Can Apostles open Gates?" Youmei asked.

"No, but _Gods can_ ," Greta said. "After a thousand years, an Apostle can be elevated into Godhood… but that's a natural process. Dr. Nguyen was a medical doctor. What if he found a drug or medicine or procedure to speed up the process?"

None of the other scientists said a word. This _had_ to be the answer. Carol felt stupid for not seeing it earlier. All the signs were there, including Nguyen. Greta had mentioned him in passing, but she hadn't thought much of it. Now that hundreds of thousands were dead and dying, she cursed herself for not realizing the possibility sooner. "We have to tell someone," she said. "I don't care whose government we call first, but someone needs to know."

She reached for the phone handset in the middle of the desk and was just about to press a button when there was a knock at the door. Slowly she stood and made her way over to the small window that looked out into the hall.

A United States Marine stared back at her.

She quickly opened the door to admit the man, who looked at her and said, "Are you Dr. Carol Dawon from the National Aeronautics and Space Administration? If yes, can you show me your ID?"

Carol pulled out her passport and presented it to the marine. He nodded, satisfied, then reached back into the hallway go grab a large case, which he began to unfold into a wide-screen display. "Sorry for the delay, ma'am," he said. "Secure teleconference over quantum is a bit of a pain."

"Secure teleconference? Who's calling me?"

The screens snapped on, and she found herself staring at two men; one standing in front of a desk, the other sitting behind it. "I'm Eric Barton, the United States Secretary of Defense," the standing man said. "I believe you recognize the person sitting behind me."

In the back, President Mahana have a halfhearted fraction of a smile and waved.

Next to her, Greta waited patiently for an explanation. She was the one person in the room who wasn't fluent in English, and in this instance, Carol believed that this was for the best. If Greta knew that they were talking to one of the most senior members of the United States military, she surely would have run away screaming. "You probably don't remember me," Barton said. 'We met at a DARPA lecture—"

"I should let you know," Carol said. "I am not the only person here, and if this is about the Gates, if you want to talk to me, you are going to have to talk with my whole team." She waved the others forward and introduced them one by one. On introducing Kuragin, she saw Barton's face noticeably dip, but Carol didn't care. If the Secretary of Defense was willing to worry about petty nationalism in a time like this, then he wasn't worth talking to.

Before Barton could even get a word in, Carol explained their conclusions with additional comments by Greta, Kuragin, and Youmei. Over the course of the conversation, Mahana's face gradually morphed into a smile. "We should've called you people first," he said. "It would have saved us a lot of time and trouble."

"It is just a guess," Kuragin pointed out. "I imagine that you're in a better position to independently verify the story about Nguyen with Vietnam."

Barton pointed to someone offscreen, and they heard the footfalls of an aide running out of the Oval Office. 'We're working on it," he said. "Here's what we've got."

He went on to describe the situation with Phizons and radiation. "We normally would not mention this in front of foreign nationals," he pointed out. "But these are trying times. I think you'll agree that dropping atom bombs everywhere is probably not the best way to solve the problem. You're some of our best experts in the field. Is there any other way you know of that might work against a God?"

The four looked at each other. Greta slowly shook her head, Youmei shrugged, and Carol was about to apologize on everyone's behalf when she noticed the slowly growing smile on Kuragin's face. _Oh no_ , she thought. This was the same kind of intensity he had when debating his Phizons-on-the-moon argument with Youmei, and it worried her. "Mr. President," he said. "All we must do is wait for a solar flare of significant magnitude to strike the Earth, and the problem will solve itself."

"And are you able to create solar flares on demand, Mr. Kuragin?" Barton said.

"I am sorry, that was meant to be a joke."

"Is it something that magicians could summon?" Greta said.

The other three looked at her in shock. "Greta," Carol said. "It's a jet of fire from _the sun_. They would be manipulating entire sun. It's millions of times the mass of Earth. Even if you got together every magician in the Special Region and linked them all with Focus Crystals, I think that's a bit beyond what they'd be able to control."

"They can control the weather though," Greta argued. "They can move whole storm fronts, if they want to. Maybe we could redirect one of these solar flares—"

"It was a joke," Kuragin repeated. "If Earth was struck by a solar flare of the wrong magnitude, the atmosphere would boil off and everyone would die. We need something lighter and more local."

And with freakish synchronicity, Kuragin's eyebrows shot up, just as the other two scientists jumped out of their chairs. "Such a thing _exists_ ," he said, followed by three very simple words. These words would have been meaningless to anyone without an astronomy education, but it caused Carol to burst out laughing.

"I don't understand," Greta said, so Carol immediately filled her in. Over the next few minutes they completely forgot that the President of the United States was waiting on the other end of the line as they ironed out the details. Finally, as one, they turned back to the screen and presented their plan. Mahana and Barton looked at them with amusement at first, followed by confusion, and finally incredulity. Eventually, Barton shook his head and said, "No way. Something like that has never been done before, not on this scale, and that's even _before_ you take magic into account."

"You're also assuming that other nations will agree to this," Mahana pointed out. "And even if they did, the logistics, the manpower, the cost—"

"Let me explain it to them," Kuragin said. "If they will not believe Americans, they will believe me."

"And the cost would be far, far lower than dropping nuclear bombs everywhere," Carol pointed out. "With our plan, everyone stands a good chance of surviving."

"But the radiation—"

"No worse than a few chest X-rays," Youmei said. "And if people are truly concerned, they can go into their basements for even less of an effect."

An aide, presumably the one from before, appeared onscreen and whispered a few comments into Barton's ear, who nodded and said, "We've received word from the Vietnamese and Japanese embassies that there was a raid on Dr. Nguyen's research center, and have evidence that suggests that your theory about what happened to him could be correct."

Behind him, the President nodded and said, "Well that's a relief. Maybe if the Chinese won't listen to me, they'll listen to Vietnam."

"China?" Carol asked. "Did we miss something?"

Mahana laughed. "Yes. Yes, we very narrowly missed something, and I couldn't be happier. I'll make sure that your theory gets passed around, and then I'll schedule an in-person meeting with the group you mentioned for the sake of building good faith. We could use more cooperation in these trying times. You said we needed at least eight, right?"

Carol translated the question to Greta, who nodded. "Eight is good, but the more points we have, the better our chances of success."

"If you say so. If we can get the other countries to approve, we'll forward the meeting location to you in the next few hours. In the meantime, I'm going to update the House and Senate Defense Comittees." Barton looked up at someone offscreen and added, "You're right, they really _do_ know what they're doing," then cut the connection.

As Youmei, Kuragin, and Greta celebrated, Carol couldn't help but be distracted by the last line. Who had Barton been talking to? Who recommended them?

The first answer she came up with was not one she liked.


	11. Chapter 10 - Earthrise

**Roof of the Softiel Philippine Plaza, Manila, Phillipines**

Sgt. Vergel Rivera could feel his stomach turning sommersaults as he considered at the mass of naval power in Manila Bay. It was too much; more than he could recall ever being in one place in recent memory..

Next to him, Corporal Efren Navarro adjusted the position of his sniper rifle and wondered aloud, "What do you think would happen if they all started shooting each other?"

"We'd be fucked," Rivera said, simply.

"I said _each other._ "

"We'd still be fucked," Rivera said, pointing. "That much crossfire? And they're all away from their home ports. They'd grab the city, because they're all crazy like that."

"You really think so?"

"Efren, have you got any idea how much crap is sitting in the bay right now?"

Navarro shook his head and Rivera started pointing. "Let's start there. Do you know what that is?"

"An aircraft carrier?"

"That's the _USS Gerald Ford_. It's the biggest aircraft carrier out there right now. The Americans hauled half of the 7th Fleet out here for this. I wouldn't be surprised if there's nuclear submarines hiding out there too. Now, you do a quick headcount and tell me how many flat-tops you see out there."

Navarro slowly counted and ended with "Six."

"That's right, and only one other one's American. That would be the helicopter carrier _Tripoli_ , over there."

"And the other ones?"

Rivera pointed around the bay. "The Chinese Carrier _Shandong_ , French carrier _Dixmude_ , Japanese Helicopter Carrier _Kaga_ , Indian carrier _Viraat_ …and that's not counting all the big cruisers. I see the British and lots of Russians."

"Damn. So, wait, why are they meeting here instead of the UN?"

"Didn't you see the news? UN Building in New York got trashed. We didn't get hit at all, and since the big countries are all feeling twitchy after the last attack, that makes us a good neutral ground."

Navarro shook his head. "Well, whatever they're planning, I hope it makes at least some sense."

* * *

 **Across the street, Phillipine International Convention Center (PICC)**

"The plan is to weaponize one of Earth's Van Allen Belts." Kuragin said.

The leaders of eight different nations stared blankly back at him. So far, they had all followed the discussion very easily. They had each heard about Gods in the Special Region, and the idea of one attacking the Earth with Gates was not as far-fetched as it might have been a decade earlier. It also lifted the burden of responsibility from any single country, and meant that the nasty, conventional retaliation they were all fearing from each other would not happen this time. In fact, Dawson had felt her stomach sink when, during the middle of her explanation, the Chinese President had waved over one of his Generals whispered a few words in his ear that made the soldier droop a little and smile in apparent relief. Is this what Barton and Mahana had meant by them 'narrowly missing' something?

It was now that they were beginning to outline the counterattack that they had run into problems. Everyone at the table had been able to agree that atomic weapons should be seen as a final option, but Kuragin's idea required a certain level of scientific background to fully grasp… a scientific background that most politicians simply didn't have.

"The Earth has a spinning metal core," Carol explained, jumping two slides ahead to a diagram. "This spinning core creates a magnetic field around the Earth that traps radioactive, high-energy particles from solar flares. Until we started launching spacecraft, no one knew they were there, but now that we know, we put additional protection on any spacecraft that needs to go out that far."

"The important part is that we have this large cloud of radioactive particles, just hanging there in Space above the Earth," Youmei said. "Our plan is to briefly redirect an ionized particle jet from the Inner Van Allen Belt down towards Earth's atmosphere. The resulting radiation burst will be enough to purge the distributed SR-Phizons, while being survivable by anyone below."

"You say survivable," the British Prime Minister stated. "That's not the same as painless or transparent. How will this affect people on the ground?"

"Some consumer electronics are going to get fried, and everyone's going to get a similar radiation equivalent dose to seven or eight chest X-rays," Carol said.

"So we will need to distribute many lead shields," the French Prime Minister commented, causing a few of the people at the table to laugh.

"And how, exactly, do you plan on redirecting a planet-sized cloud of radioactive particles?" The Chinese President asked.

The group looked at Greta, who started up in Japanese. "We will use magicians from the Special Region."

At the other end of the table, Zyuganov snorted and face-palmed.

"Magicians are able to do something like that?" The Indian prime minister asked. The skepticism was clearly written on his face, and Carol could see that they were losing their audience.

"Lelei La Leleina operates a group in the Falmart Republic that is able to produce storm fronts."

"Ms. Greta, a storm front is tiny compared to what you and your colleagues are suggesting."

"We can improve their chances by doing a number of things to magnify the magic effect," Greta countered. "In the Special Region, arranging the casters in different geometric shapes, power sharing through focus crystals, and vertical distance in relation to the Special Region's moon can be used to drastically multiply the effect."

"So you are suggesting that we space them out all over the planet—"

"The ground can't be in the way. More than a thousand feet of rock will dampen the effects of Focus-Crystal sharing. They must be line of sight," Greta said.

It was only then that the leaders in the room began to puzzle out what the United States, Russia, China, India, Japan, and the controlling leaders of a certain European organization all had in common.

Zyuganov looked at Mahana and said, "They actually convinced you of this?"

Mahana shrugged. "Minister Kouhara's fine with it, and the US and Japan can do it alone if we must... but the more magicians we use, the higher our chances of success."

Across the table, the Japanese Foreign Minister, sitting in for Kouhara, looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Next to him, the French Prime Minister was shaking his head. "This…this is so ridiculous that I need you to actually say it aloud."

"The plan is to launch a dozen or so magicians into Low Earth Orbit, and conduct a directional-force ward ritual on a planetary scale," Kuragin said, as if nothing could be simpler.

Naturally, the other world leaders looked at him as if he had sprouted three additional heads and started a barbershop quartet. Slowly, the British Prime Minister turned to look at Mahana and said, "Have you gone _completely_ mental?"

"They seem to think it will work," Mahana said. "Or, are you saying that you prefer the nuclear option?"

"Clearly not, but… _space?_ "

Zyuganov, who was giggling by that point, raised a hand and said, "Then Russia will join you!"

"Minister Zyuganov—"

"It is wonderful, no?" The Russian President said. "The world is being crushed to bits by monsters summoned from other worlds by an unruly god, and we will respond by launching wizards on rocket ships! Nothing makes sense anymore! Maybe Vodka will rain from the sky next. If the Americans want to invite the countries of the world to their gratuitous rocket launching, what would the Russian Federation be if we said no?" By that point he couldn't hold it any longer and burst out laughing, dropping his head to the table.

The Chinese President, watching all of this, looked back at Mahana and said, "It's a difficult suggestion to take seriously. Due to our limited work in the Special Region, we have no basis for knowing that this would actually work. Even if we did trust the magic knowledge of this—" he waved a hand towards Greta, "—whatever they call your kind, it sounds like this is theoretical to them as well. Tell me, is weather manipulation something that they have been doing for years in the Falmart Republic, or is this something relatively new?"

Carol relayed the question to Greta who replied, "It's relatively recent. We didn't know we could even do it until a year and a half ago, when we were first handed a clear picture of how the meteorological sciences worked and perfected Focus Crystal boosting. I am sure that once we tell them how—"

"You are placing too much value in assumptions," The Chinese president said. "I cannot commit until I have something more concrete."

Almost in response to the statement, the building shook.

The doors to the room burst open and the Philippine President burst into the room. After a few quick words with one of his guards, he walked over to the conference table and said, "We are under attack."

* * *

"Did you see that!?" Navarro shouted. The Gate that opened in the sky over Manila had disgorged about a dozen massive dragons of all colors, and was leaking hundreds of smaller ones. Rivera didn't catch which one of the ships had reacted first, but the giant dragon in the lead, a bright white one with reflecting scales, had taken what looked like an anti-air missile to the face, then spiraled out of the sky before kamikaziing into the seaplane terminal to the north of them.

In the bay, the various fleets had started to come to life. Rivera watched as one missile, then another, then more lifted from the decks of various cruisers and destroyers. Glinting telltale lights foretold the first of the F-35Cs, Su-33s, and J-15s as they were catapulted from the decks of the various carriers to join the battle.

About a dozen dragonlets, the size of Wyverns, broke off from the main group and headed for the convention center. A few meters away from Rivera and Navarro, a team started loading Stinger missiles and firing. Navarro rolled onto his back, bringing the sniper rifle up to aim at the oncoming enemies. He let out a very slow breath, placed his finger on the trigger, and said, "Uh… Rivera?"

"What?"

"They're straight up. What adjustment am I supposed to make when they're straight up?"

"I don't know! Shoot!"

The heavily caliber rifle went off… and nothing happened.

Just as Navarro was about to curse up at the oncoming beasts, they heard a roar, then a rattle of heavy machinegun fire that tore through the Wyverns. Looking North, Rivera finally spotted the challenger, an OV-10C from the PAF 16th Attack Squadron which waggled its wings as it passed overhead, then circled around in an attempt to find more targets.

Overhead, transport helicopters from the various carriers and cruisers were arriving for the foreign dignitaries. Rivera could imagine the argument going on over the radios as pilots argued over the best landing spacing, but they seemed to come to a consensus relatively quickly. This was defended by a wave of Cobras, Hinds, and a pair of F-35Bs that hovered menacingly, as if daring the airborne enemies to make a move against them.

In the bay, the tempo of battle accelerated, with the waves of missiles being joined by fountains of tracers as ships' Phalanx systems came online. Between the might of the combined fleets at sea, and the pilots working their weapons through the air, the assault from the Gate was being held back.

Barely.

* * *

 **Sadera, Falmart Republic, Special Region**

Clayton had never been so tired in his entire life.

In an effort to get him back to the Special Region as quickly as possible, Barton had shoved Clayton aboard a B-1B Lancer at Andrews AFB and given the pilots instructions to get him back to Japan as quickly as possible. Mahana had insisted that he be present to convince Lelei, the Falmart Senate, and whoever else needed convincing for the space plan to succeed. Despite the cramped space in the cockpit, the roar of the engines, and the turbulence over parts of the Pacific, Clayton had slept through most of the flight.

When he had finally awoken in Okinawa, he was transferred to another jet to Narita, driven through the Gate, then jammed onto a V-22 for the last leg of the trip. Overhead, the sun seemed to bounce about between its positions in the Midwest, East coast, Japan, and now the Special Region, and the ceaseless travel had left him feeling like a mess.

As a result, it was the first time that he felt at a complete disadvantage as he sat across from Prime Ministers Kouhara and Sherry, who appeared completely refreshed. "So your plan is to borrow our thirty strongest magical adepts for your rocket mission," Sherry said, raising an eyebrow. "While I appreciate all that America and Japan have done for the Falmart Republic over the years, please understand. Those magicians are a valuable resource to us, and adepts allow us to compete economically and militarily with our neighbors."

"We won't need them for more than a week," Clayton said. "In that time, they will be exposed to cutting-edge technology, which will doubtlessly shape their ability to assist the Falmart Republic in the future. Most countries have long waitlists to send citizens into orbit; to be able to send so many at once—"

"Mr. Clayton, forgive me for being blunt, but there have been plenty of times that Japan and America have either done the bare minimum, or completely refused involvement in the Special Region in favor of advancing their own interests," Sherry said. The polite smile had not left her face, and from the slight narrowing of her eyes, Clayton suspected that she was enjoying this. To have Earth governments approaching _her_ for help was a noteworthy change from how things usually went. "I wonder… if Pina's brother was still in charge, would you have just trampled over him and taken the magicians without asking? Are things so bad on Earth that you cannot spare the forces to do the same to me?"

"On Earth, we prefer diplomacy without force whenever we can get it," Kouhara said. "It's less expensive over time, which goes over better with the general populace, as I'm sure you learned in your last election."

"Of course, but you must also understand my position. The past ten years have been Japan and America using the Republic—and the Empire before that—as a doormat. For you to show up today and demand unconditional help is distasteful, and reflective of an abusive relationship that needs to change."

"If you want something, please just say it," Clayton said. "We're on the clock, and our governments are in the process of negotiating this with other major Earth powers as we speak."

Sherry folded her hands and said, "I want the Ginza reparations lifted, I want the ability to institute my own taxes and tariffs on products entering the Falmart Republic, and I want the ability to purchase weapons, vehicles, and ammunition from American and Japanese military contractors."

Clayton struggled to keep a straight face. Sherry had the entire planet Earth by the balls, and was planning on milking this opportunity for everything she could get.

"We can do that," Kouhara said.

Clayton whirled on her and said, "Think about this for a moment. The reparations and tariffs are one thing, but _guns?_ _Tanks?_ "

"I think you're underselling the value of your entire planet," Sherry said, not breaking face. "America has made plenty of similar deals in the past with in the name of global peace. Egypt, Israel, and the Suez, for instance. In the end, everyone prospered. Why not do the same here?"

Kouhara gave him a look, and it was clear from the way that her lips pressed together slightly that she had already thought through everything Clayton had mentioned. They didn't have much of a choice. Eventually, Clayton nodded. "Additionally," Kouhara said, "I'd like to extend my initial request to also cover the leadership of the other Earth countries for the duration of the crisis."

Sherry nodded. "Done, provided we receive a shipment of Howa Type 64s with modifications and ammunition _tonight._ "

And Kouhara nodded again as if nothing could be simpler. Clayton thought back to the Civil War two years prior, how unnerved he and Sugawara had been at Imperial early musket technology. This feeling had gotten worse over the months that followed once Sadera rolled out the first cartridge-based weapons, but the idea of Imperial soldiers running around with Japanese assault rifles made the American ambassador feel like he was going to puke. Yet, Kouhara barely seemed to care. It was as if none of it mattered to her either way.

This made Clayton wonder, _why wouldn't it matter to her?_ "What agreement?" he asked.

"The option to use the Special Region as an impenetrable bunker in the event of a major catastrophe on Earth," Kouhara clarified.

As he turned the idea over in his head, Ckayton realized something troubling; something that should have been obvious long before.

The counter-move popped into his head immediately. All it would require was a small change of plans, but it was certainly, definitely doable.

"Gladly," Clayton said. "I'll pass along the option to the President. Depending on how things are going, I'm sure that everyone will be very interested in what you have to offer."

* * *

 **Aboard the** _ **U.S.S. Gerald Ford**_ **, off the coast of The Philippines, West of Manila**

Mahana and Barton settled in at the conference room table of the Flag War Room, an otherwise sparse-room dominated by a pair of large monitors at one end, which had been split up to allow communication with the other heads of state on their various capital ships.

All of them had received word of additional attacks around the planet, and a cursory glance at the time indicated that less than 72 hours had passed between the first attack and the second, and that each attack had an open Gate for about ninety minutes. Below his right hand, the President held on to the first casualty reports from Philadelphia, St. Louis, San Francisco, and Miami.

Before he could start talking, however, an aide rushed in with a photocopied page, which Mahana looked at before passing it to Barton. "This is from the Aumndsen-Scott South Pole Station in Antarcica," Barton announced, holding it up so the people on the screens could see the pages. "It depicts pockets of a dark-grey material that has no apparent mass, takes up no apparent space, and destroys anything biological that is stuck inside of it. It matches exactly with a phenomenon in the Special Region called Apocryph. Based on the second, revised report from Itami Youji, Apocryph is caused by the interspatial damage wrought over time by having a Gate open to a planet. We have now had nearly a hundred Gates open all over the Earth, most at the same time as each other. As long as existing Gates are held open or new Gates are formed, Apocryph will continue to spread, until the entire Earth is consumed, along with anyone still living on it. Provided no changes, NOAA estimates that Apocryph will cover every significant landmass on Earth within one year… if humanity survives that long."

"What this means," Mahana said, "Is that we need to know about your decision on the space plan _today_ , and start working on this project _right now_. Do I have your full support?"

"India is with you on this," the Indian Prime Minister stated. "In addition to saving the world, we will prove the effectiveness and utility of the Gaganyaan system with this mission."

"I think I also speak for France when I say that I'm thoroughly convinced," the British Prime Minister added. "And while we must still get the confirmation from the other ESA member states, I suspect that Germany will not complain, and the others will approve as well."

The Chinese President looked down at his papers, picked them up, dropped them into place to sort them, all while having the complete attention of everyone else present. "We will assist, on one condiiton. The United States will reverse its policy on preventing collaboration between NASA and CNSA, starting today."

Mahana nodded. "We still won't be giving you technical details, but we'd be happy to work with you on other projects in the future. I know that a handful of advocacy groups in the United States have been pushing for closer cooperation for years, if not decades, so being able to accept your request is going to make plenty of people happy, even if it does piss off some of the hard-liners. If they don't like it, I'll be out of office in a few months anyway."

"While we're discussing the topic of international cooperation," the Japanese Foreign Minister said, "Kouhara has just written back to me with an offer. For the sake of ensuring continuity of government, the Falmart Republic has agreed to accommodate us in neutral territory on the far side of the Gate. Since no attacking Gates have appeared in the Special Region, Japan currently plans to move elements of government operations to locations in Alnus. In the spirit of international cooperation, Japan and Falmart are extending this offer to everyone taking part in the space compact."

The others in the video conference seemed to consider it, then Zyuganov asked, "Are we allowed to bring security forces through with us?"

"Yes, provided that they follow you out at the end of the week, and provided that they are security forces, and not an entire tank battalion."

The Russian president laughed and said, "That's fine, in that case, I will discuss it with everyone back in Moscow, once we have Novosibirsk under control."

Several other leaders voiced similar comments, and the conference ended. "Clayton just checked in," Barton informed the President. "We have secured access to enough magicians to put the plan into motion."

Mahana nodded, straightened his tie and asked, "Did the four scientists get off the island alright?"

"Youmei is on the Kaga, Kuragin is on the Kirov, and Dawson and Greta are being looked at down in Medical. The girl got clipped on the shoulder by something, and they're just making sure she's been treated and bandaged… sir?"

"Yeah?"

"How do you feel about Kouhara's offer?"

Mahana ran a hand through his hair and said, "To be perfectly honest, I feel like I ought to stay in Washington, and send Kennith through as my backup. The Senate can go on break while the VP is out if they need to…"

"...but?"

"But if the other countries, particularly Japan, _do_ decide to send their leaders to the Special Region, then it would be like turning down an invitation to G20."

Barton nodded. "Clayton also submitted some of his thoughts to me, and I thought you should know, we are prepared to support you and Vice President LeMay, regardless of what your decision is."

* * *

"And you'll really be alright? They didn't find any additional complications?" Carol asked.

Greta went to shrug, but winced and moved her left hand to her right shoulder, which was partially wrapped in gauze. "My people heal faster than humans," she said. "I've survived far worse."

"I'm not worried about what you can _survive_ , I'm worried about how you're feeling." Carol said. "I've dragged you into enough messes—"

"But you're here," Greta stated. "You're here, with me, right now, and that's all that I need." She smiled, but it was with the same kind of exhaustion that Carol felt; the kind that came from the stress of travel and tense diplomacy.

But she did not yet feel the tension Carol had known for the past several hours, waiting for the other shoe to fall. There was one key factor missing from the whole story, and it bothered the hell out of her. _Where's Clayton?_ _As the politician who knows the most about the Gate, he should have been present for all of this. He should have shown up with demands by now. Either he's orchestrating everything from the back, in which case we need to be on our guard, or he's hiding something._

"Are _you_ okay, Carol?" Greta asked.

Carol remembered Greta's reaction from the Gala. If she told her how she really felt, would Greta be able to handle it? She couldn't deal with that. Not here, not now, and not with so much at stake. "I'm fine," Carol said. "We'll make it through this, I promise!"


	12. Chapter 11 - Lunar Orbit

**Washington DC, United States**

Mahana glanced up at the clock on the other side of the Oval Office. Heads of State from other countries had agreed to air their messages at exactly the same time, but he knew that the domestic audience alone, of nearly four hundred million people, were eagerly waiting for a final, decisive statement on their attackers, and what their government was going to do about it.

He glanced through the points of the speech one more time, thankful that teleprompters were still a thing, and watched as the Press director gave him a signal.

 _Three, two, one..._

"My fellow Americans," Mahana said, "In the past few days, the United States has witnessed horrors and destruction unlike any in our nation's history. Monsters from other worlds, the collapse of homes and businesses, loss of friends and family. Yet, in that same time, we have seen the bravery of our military and first responders, the determination of our doctors and first aid workers, and the charity of of citizens from all walks of life.

"In words enshrined in our Constitution, it is the duty of our government to 'provide for the common defense,' and 'secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our prosterity', and we have learned that these attacks are being performed by a despicable entity that seeks to circumvent the former so as to deny us the latter. This entity was the product of malice-a delayed revenge tool of a Special Region demon that was utterly and fiercely destroyed by our armed forces two years ago. I have instructed our armed forces and other executive agencies to do everything in their power to bring this entity to justice, and justice we shall have.

"Several hours ago, I met with world leaders from around the world and agreed to a project designed to rid our planet of its tormentor. This plan, which will be made available to the press after this announcement, combines the best of our technology with emerging knowledge and specialists from the Special Region. I must emphasize that the people of the Special Region are not our enemies; they too know the terror of living under tyrants that self-style themselves as false gods and mean to assist us as we have assisted them. With their help, we expect to burn the entity that attacked us off the face of the Earth.

"This will not be easy. To succeed, we will need to mobilize all of our resources, both military and civilian, into successful execution of the operation. Based on the spacing of the last few attacks, we have only a few days to perform tasks which would normally take weeks or even months. but I am compelled to recall the words of President Kennedy at Rice University in calling this challenge one 'that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win.'

"The American Dream was built on the foundation that we as a people deserve freedom from tyranny, and I wish to leave you tonight with the knowledge that your government will not rest until your security is restored. to this 'we mutually pledge our lives, fortunes, and sacred honor.'"

* * *

 **Alnus, The Special Region**

"This is your world, and I think you should go too," Lelei concluded.

Ayaka didn't know what to say, or how to feel. She just sat there feeling hopelessly lost and unsure.

The Japanese and Americans had approached Lelei with a plan to remove an errant Apostle-turned-God from Earth, and the plan involved shooting magicians into space to perform something like the mountain rain ritual on a grand scale. "Would that even work?" She had asked.

"Yes," Lelei had said. "In theory."

But when the magician had suggested that Ayaka come along, she had been completely flummoxed. Ultimately, Ayaka said, "I'm not a real magician yet. I can set myself on fire by accident and throw fruit up in the air. They need masters in the art… not whatever I am.

Lelei slowly raised one eyebrow. "You did perfectly up on the mountain."

"That was a support role! And that's a rain cloud, this… it's a whole planet! It's bigger than a planet! If we fail—"

"Your leaders will use nuclear weapons to the same end," Lelei said. "And in this field of magic, size is not important; its comprehension of theory, and the ability to visualize the reaction in your mind's-eye. Once my team of magicians has had enough time to study the nature of these Van-Allen belts, we should be able to influence them, at least temporarily. Your role in this would be the same as before."

"It's not that simple, it's _space_!" Ayaka argued. "You don't go into space like it's a weekend drive to the beach, and you can't just transfer everything you do on Earth up there like it's the exact same thing!"

Lelei tilted her head. "Why not?"

"Because…" Ayaka didn't know how to put it into words. She knew that getting into space was very hard, and living in space very complicated, but she had never looked deeply enough into the topic to learn the specifics. "It just is, okay?"

But Lelei seemed undeterred. "I wish to take you with me on whichever spacecraft they place me on. I suspect that they will not argue, since they are relying on my expertise."

"What about you?" Ayaka said. "Aren't you worried about any of this?"

"No."

"How!?"

"Greta La Sareteian was able to construct a spacecraft using technology available to Falmart, an otherwise pre-industrial society. If she could do that, I believe that Earth nations can do equally well, if not better. I also wish to see what effect this sort of thing has on a God, and if it's really powerful enough to remove one. Furthermore, I long ago told Itami Youji that I wished to try every vehicle on Earth. I have not yet been able to fly aboard a rocket, and I do not wish to miss the chance..."

The other eyebrow slowly came up, "Ayaka-chan, I have changed my mind. You _must_ go with me."

"Why?"

"Intuition. Greta and Ellie came back from space fundamentally changed. Perhaps it is this 'real' thing you are looking for."

Ayaka had no good counter to that. What if whatever she was looking for _was_ up there? "And it's just as support," she said. "You don't need me to do anything special or fancy or anything like that, right?"

"Yes."

Slowly, Ayaka nodded. As long as it was just support, she could make this work. If she didn't need to be a special magician or astronaut or anything like that, she just might be able to do it.

If nothing else, the experience would help make up for the academics gap if she ever applied to a University.

"I'll do it," she said, "But as support only."

"That's all I'm asking." Lelei stood, bowed her head to her student, and left without another word.

Ayaka meanwhile, couldn't help but sigh. She had expected to spend months in Falmart, but in the end she was returning to Earth after less than a week, with barely more knowledge than she'd arrived with.

It wouldn't be enough. In her gut she knew that it _wasn't_ enough.

Another fake thing, even as the world tried to act more 'real' in the face of disaster.

* * *

 **THE NEXT DAY**

 **Huntsville, Alabama, United States**

Carol waited at the back of the room with a handful of other scientists and engineers. This wasn't their meeting; they had all been briefed earlier, but there was still a great deal of curiosity as to the group of people attending the meeting. Most of the engineers had never seen anyone from the Special Region before, much less a group that included Special Region magicians, but this particular group was special. Three of the people present were already astronauts.

The engineers recognized Greta from Carol's stories and pictures, and from having met her in person the handful of times she had brought her student to the various NASA centers to look around and learn about Earth engineering practices. She stood up on the lecture room stage, making final preparations at a podium.

Harder to spot was Hector El Sava, who had been convinced to lower the hood of his robes just enough so that his grisly visage was visible. His eyes seemed to dart around the room, picking out the various pieces of technology; the Wi-Fi access points, the Emergency Exit signs, even the rear projector at the back of the room, which he considered with an amused grin. Carol didn't know as much about him, as Greta had only introduced him briefly before the man had returned to the Special Region. "Very much new things," he had explained in thickly accented, grammatically backwards Japanese, "Too confusing. Head hurt."

Finally, sharing the stage with Greta was a girl named Ellie Fa Agne. Ellie was a member of another demihuman species called 'Monarchs' and had supposedly been the one to pilot Greta's home-built spaceplane above the Special Region's Karman line—the academically decided-upon boundary between conventional flight and spaceflight. Like many demihumans, she had a stunning figure, and it was clear to see that the fashion industry of Earth had gotten to her; her clothes were remarkably form-fitting yet still admitting enough to allow her to easily move the massive wings sprouting from her back. As a SpaceX astronaut candidate, she had spent the most time in Huntsville, and, on seeing the non-Falmart crowd in the back of the room, stuck her tongue out at them and wiggled her fingers in their direction, prompting cheers and whistles, particularly from the younger male engineers.

When Greta started her explanation, it was entirely in Imperial, but considering as Carol had triple and quadruple-checked the explanation with Greta endlessly before the presentation, she didn't need a fluent understanding of the language to know what was being said.

"Based on information provided by Ms. Lalena, the plan is to arrange everyone in a stretched geometric crystal," Greta said as she jumped to the first slide. "The major points of light in this animation will be the primary group of spacecraft conducting the controlling ritual. It will be your job to actually bend the Van Allen belts. Each spacecraft in this layer will have only one magician aboard, and two Earth pilots to handle spacecraft control, navigation, and communication. Everyone in this group is Blue Team. Everyone will be trained in their role, and each person on Blue Team will have a backup mage that is also trained for the same node, and same spacecraft."

She switched to the next slide, which showed a pair of points further out, in a much higher orbit. "Red Team will be providing a connection and boosting node on a pair of spacecraft in high Earth orbit. Five of you will be flying with Ellie and a SpaceX astronaut, while another two will serve as backup aboard a dedicated NASA vehicle."

With the next slide, even more dots appeared, helping to fill in the space between the Blue Team dots. "Not all Earth nations with spaceflight capability can launch manned spacecraft, so we have called upon these to launch a constellation of Cubesats carrying focus crystals into intermediary positions. It's the same idea as putting Focus crystals at the foci of a ritual pentagram, just spread out over a much larger distance."

Next, Ellie took center stage. "Spaceflight is not like anything you've ever tried before, not even those of you who have helped fly a Mag-3 or taken a ride on a Wyvern. The jet airplane you took to get here doesn't compare either. You will experience strong forces pushing you into your seat at liftoff. You will experience hours or possibly days in microgravity, where there is no up or down, which will confuse your body and upset your stomach. If we succeed, you will also feel the intense pressure of reentry. You will all be tested to confirm that you can withstand the forces, and that you can still cast magic while disoriented. You will be tested for claustrophobia too."

The Monarch smiled and added. "Getting used to the idea of long hours in small spaces was tough for me at first, but I had a lot of help, and so will you. Earth spacesuits are also a lot more comfortable than what I had to wear during my first flight, so you won't need to worry as much about overheating or not being able to turn your head. Those of you who are flying with me will also get to practice being tied in place, and will get to go for a few runs on a parabolic microgravity flight—we'll actually have space to work with, and I can't have you all bouncing around like a bunch of kiddies up there."

"Does anyone have any questions?" Greta asked.

A few of the mages present raised hands, and Greta pointed at one towards the front. Carol's imperial wasn't great, but it was good enough to get the general gist of what was being asked. In this instance, a woman with long flowing robes was asking what the spaceship crews would be like.

"Once you pass through basic training, you will be moved to the company or space agency scheduled to launch you. Many of you will be staying in the United States. More of you will be sent to Russia, China, India, and France. A few of you will even be sent back to Japan. Wherever you go, there will be translators on hand who know at least Japanese, but we are trying to gather up ones that know Imperial too."

Hector raised a hand and asked, "What decides the team we're on?"

"Test results, of course! Those with the best ability to handle spaceflight and zero-gravity go on Red Team, Blue Team, Red Team Backup, and Blue Team Backup, in that order."

A girl towards the front—in remarkably normal clothes—raised her hand and, to Carol's surprise, spoke in Japanese. She said, "Will we be casting magic inside the spaceships or outside?"

Greta looked over to Carol for some explanation, but the older engineer shrugged. She had no idea why a Japanese girl would be there. After translating the question, Greta answered first in Japanese, then again in Imperial, "All magic is conducted inside of the spacecraft. You will not need to go out in a spacesuit for E.V.A."

There were a few other questions, but eventually Ellie called the group of mage-astronaut candidates to attention and directed them out of the room to the first round of tests. Most of the engineers around Carol, excited to see the reactions of the new recruits, followed.

Ultimately, six people remained. Hector joined Lelei and the Japanese girl over to one side, while Carol joined Greta and Ellie up on the stage. "What did you think?" Greta asked, switching back to Japanese.

"I think they're nervous, but they'll get through."

Ellie smirked and said in English, "I can't wait to see how they handle the centrifuge and T-X trainers. Half the guys in my trainee team puked their guts out."

It was a weird combination, but a workable one. Carol spoke English and Japanese, Greta spoke Japanese and Imperial, Ellie spoke Imperial and English, but they were collectively able to hold a passable conversation.

"So, how was your training going?" Carol asked.

"The training is _easy_ ," Ellie said. "High-G simulators, water landing escapes, the Vomit Comet, I can do it all day. It's memorizing all the buttons that's hard. Thankfully, that's what the professionals are for. They originally wanted to send me up to the Space Station because NASA can't ask chickens and turkeys how they feel about microgravity. Maybe if the mission succeeds, they'll give me enough time to run the tests anyway?"

"The SpaceX ship is designed to last a similar-size crew for months," Carol pointed out. "I'm sure they'll let you do it!"

"You're _too_ lucky," Greta teased her. "By the time this is over, you'll have gone up more times than I have."

Ellie smiled, then, stepping closer to Greta, lowered her voice and asked, "Any news about Hector?"

"The people I know in Falmart and the JSDF haven't said anything," Greta replied. "He was in the hospital in Italica recently, but they aren't allowed to provide details about why."

Ellie nodded and looked over at Hector, who was chiding the Japanese girl about something. "I miss that, sometimes," she said, gesturing in the old man's direction with a grin. "It kept me on track."

"You should let him know," Carol said, and was about to make another suggestion when she heard one of the doors at the back of the room creak open.

The man who entered was wearing a military dress uniform. He had aged a lot since Carol had seen him last; his hair especially had thinned out. Still, he appeared to recognize her immediately and called out, "Dr. Dawson?"

He immediately had the attention of the remaining people in the room as he approached the stage. Ultimately he stopped at the front row after acknowledging the others, and said, looking up at her, "Dr. Dawson, it's been a while. The same goes for you, Ms. Sareteian."

Carol's mind was racing. _What's he doing here? His domain is nuclear missiles, right? What does he want with us? Is THIS Clayton's move?_ "Hello…" she checked the rank insignia on his shoulders, " _General_ Mullan. How's the Air Force treating you?"

Mullan smiled politely in response. "Technically it's Space Corps now, but the formal implementation won't be made until 2030."

"This is General Richard Mullan," Greta explained to the others. "He controls missiles for the Americans. Lelei, I believe you met him briefly before Flat's planetary motion debate with the Rondel Astronomy Council?"

The magician nodded once, but said nothing else.

"I was sent here to inform you all of a modification to the original plan," Mullan said. "Ms. Sareteian, it was your original intention to have Lelei lead a team of magicians on a SpaceX Starship for Red Team, correct?"

"Yes," Greta said, clearly unsure, "But this plan was devised with Lelei's cooperation in the first place. There's not much else we can do to make it better."

Mullan looked at Lelei and said, in remarkably clear Imperial, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but there are three ways to magnify the power of magic. The first is to arrange the magicians in a line-of-sight geometric shape with no ground obstructions. The second is to have the magicians hold focus crystals, and place focus crystals at the focal points of the ritual group. The third is to place the magicians as close to the moon as possible, such as on a mountain or high cliff. Correct?"

Lelei nodded a second time. As before, it was just a single nod. "We have already implemented all three of these," Carol pointed out. "We'll have the magicians in a geometric arrangement, plenty of focus crystals, and the mages will be in high Earth orbit, meaning that if the ritual is cast when they're nearest to the moon, it will have the greatest chance of success."

"True," Mullan said. "But we _can_ do better."

Carol and Greta looked at each other, trying to figure out what he might mean before Carol raised an eyebrow and mouthed, " _Tsuki?_ "

Greta shook her head. "It would take SLS and Starship too long to get there, and it would spend half the orbit with line-of-sight blocked—"

"I never said anything about orbit," Mullan said. "Ms. Lalena, if you see noticeable effects by moving your magicians to a mountain peak, what would the magnitude of magical magnification be if we were to put your magicians _**on**_ the moon?"

And then something remarkable happened. The corner of Lelei's mouth ticked up a few millimeters—just enough to threaten to become a smile. "It has never been done before."

"Of course—"

"That doesn't matter," Carol said. "We don't have a lander. Altair was cancelled with the Constellation Program years ago, and Blue Origin and Moon Express are years, if not another decade away before having a LM you could put a person on."

"You're absolutely right, and absolutely wrong," Mullan said, "You are correct, there is no lander currently available to do the job. Fortunately, we don't need one."

"Uh… yes, you do?" Carol said. "Otherwise, it's a one-way trip."

"The United States Military has developed an alternative method," Mullan said. "We will need Lelei and four of her best magicians… and we need to keep this a secret, so we will be departing tonight."

Lelei appeared to think about it and said, "I will give you a list of three magicians that should be able to perform the ritual. If we wish this to succeed, I cannot place all of our most powerful magicians in one place, so I will take half from my original list with me to the moon. That includes Sasaki-chan and Hector."

"Good… Carol, Greta, you'll be going with us too. Someone's going to need to act as technical advisor."

"Technical advisor…?" Carol said. She was still trying to figure out just what kind of craft the military could have built that would put a man on the moon, did not need a lander, and could manage all of it without catching public attention.

"That's right. Carol, I know that you have experience with the Lunar Electric Rover from your PR tours, which might come in handy in terms of finding a good way to get six-plus astronauts in EVA suits to their destination."

Which added another wrench to Carol's picture of the military launcher. In terms of mass, the LER was gigantic. The rocket that carried a crew of a dozen or more would need to be even larger still, probably dwarfing a Saturn V if it had the ability to make it to the lunar surface and back without a separate lander module or in-orbit refueling. Unless the Air Force had secretly built a functioning model of the _Millennium Falcon_ , she just couldn't picture it.

She looked back at Greta and wondered if she was thinking the same thing. The woman's lip curled up into a smile. Even if it was a military operation, both of them were curious as engineers. "Okay," Carol said. "We're in."

Looking around a second time, she noticed that there were two people in the room who still weren't amused by the whole thing. The Japanese girl—Sasaki was her name?—kicked at one of the chairs with a very bored expression on her face, like she was waiting for everyone else to just get on with it.

Ellie, on the other hand, looked visibly downtrodden. "I see…" she said, then looking at Hector, added. "I guess we're not going up together."

Hector neared the platform and looked up at his former traveling companion. "Come here, for a moment, girl."

Ellie sighed and sat down on the edge of the stage. The older mage pulled himself up next to her and said, "One thing I've learned about you over the years; you're an excellent flyer, you pick things up really quickly. These people, they'll need you to train them, and to keep them organized once they get into space. What you aren't… is a good soldier. You like to keep yourself as far away from the idea of fights and battles as possible. What we're about to do here, against this god, it's not just a flight. It's a battle. A big part of being effective in battle is being able to trust in your fellow soldier—holding the expectation that the men in front of you and behind you are competent, and have your back just as much as you have theirs. That holds true, both for the shield-bearers far in the front, and the archers somewhere far behind you. You might not see either during the battle, but you still trust in them." He placed a hand on her shoulder and added. "I trust in you to do your part, Ellie. Even if I won't be there. Will you trust in me?"

Carol didn't know all the Special Region words the two said, but she felt a chill go up her spine even so. Looking to the side, she saw Greta nod, satisfied. She and Ellie had been talking about Hector earlier; clearly they shared some private concern. She would need to ask about that later.

"Fine," Ellie said, with a pout. "But I'm taking you skydiving when we get back."

Everyone laughed, and, for just a moment, they forgot how complicated the situation truly was.


	13. Chapter 12 - Final Checks

**Ginza, Tokyo**

Komakado had chosen this particular café because it overlooked the plaza at Ginza, and because it provided a clear view of the Gate entryway. As he sipped a cup of coffee, he watched as yet another motorcade made its way into the dome. The way it had been framed to the public was that the major powers were meeting on neutral territory as a way to reduce concerns about continuity of government in the event of a disaster, and to speed up negotiations for aid and so on. As per usual, about half the public agreed with the move citing the need for effective communication when so much of the global economic infrastructure was under repair, while the other half decried the move as cowardice, claiming that the political statesmen should remain in their countries. Naturally, these arguments fell perfectly along each country's party lines, except in those countries where having a dissenting opinion wasn't permitted.

Komakado looked up as Itami Youji pulled out the chair across from him and took a seat. The veteran was wearing street clothes, which looked out of place because the restaurant was ever-so-slightly more upscale than the otaku's standard fare. "Well?" he said, sitting down. "Do you have it?"

The Agent reached under the table and passed Itami a plastic bag. The whole situation felt embarrassing, a feeling which only doubled when Itami reached in and pulled out the contents; a statuette of some buxom elf-girl from an _isekai_ anime that Komakado had completely ignored in 2016. "I'm impressed," Itami said. "Only two hundred of these were released with the Limited Edition Blu-Ray box, and the offerings online are usually prohibitively expensive."

"Never said it _wasn't_ prohibitively expensive," Komokado said. "Takagi wouldn't talk, and I know that you're happier to share your opinions if you thought something was wrong. This is just to sweeten the deal."

Itami shrugged and placed the statuette back into the bag. "I won't endanger the JSDF, or anyone I formerly served with."

"That's fair. Can we start by agreeing that extra JSDF assets were moving through the Gate since before this whole thing started? I happen to like this café, and it's easy to notice an uptick in tanks and army trucks whenever there is trouble over there. There are internet forums that track these things as well, so there's not much use in denying it."

"Most of it is for continuing action in the Avion Sea," Itami clarified. "Too many damn islands, too many damn pirates, and too much of a call for amphibious assaults."

"Most, but not all?"

"Kouhara has been beefing up Japan's presence on the far side. The Rushing War demonstrated that magic ECMs play havoc with warfighting as we understand it. It's all the worst parts of cyberwarfare, with none of the deterrents. Set up enough firewalls and you can stop a network intruder, but if Falmart drags us back down to fighting with dumb-fire weapons, our ability to win is less assured. It's not like a decade ago where a soldier with a Sumitomo Type 74 could just mow down fake-Romans with plywood shields. Things are different now. That goes double, now that the Falmart Republic has access to Japanese and American arms dealers.

Komakado frowned at that item as well. There had been a great deal of bewilderment over the plan to counter-attack Nguyen. The mission sounded far to unreal to be true, and included so many points of failure that it had become a contestant debate on media platforms as to whether or not it would work, or if it was even worth trying. Trading security in the Special Region for this insane plot didn't sound like much of a bargain. "Then why offer to let other heads of state into the Gate at all?" Komakado asked. "Wouldn't it make more sense to reserve it for Japan?"

"Yeah, that's the part that I don't get," Itami said, scratching the back of his head. "Don't America and Russia have those big bunkers hidden under mountains for situations like this, or are those just in the movies? I'm also surprised that they'd accept Sherry's hospitality. I know that she wants to make it look like Falmart's in the big leagues, but it just doesn't seem like her style, especially after demanding so many concessions for the magicians."

"Maybe she ran out of things to ask?"

Itami shook his head. "Even from the first time I met her, back before Zorzal's coup, she was always trying to wheedle things out of people. I thought she'd grow out of it as she grew older, but knowing what she did to Sugawara during the Rushing War, I just don't know anymore."

Komakado nodded. He wasn't some grand political strategist—he solved problems for other people and tried not to create more. "That reminds me," Itami said. "What makes _you_ so interested in all of this? It's not normal for different agencies of the government to be quietly investigating each other.

"You're right," Komakado said. "It's not normal, and it's technically not sanctioned either. Something doesn't feel right to me. Everyone's too buddy-buddy."

"Maybe that's for the best. I don't know if you heard, but ten years ago during the Hakone Incident, we got every otaku in Tokyo to turn out to see the girls. As a result, we never got attacked."

Slowly Komokado shook his head and pointed out the window. "See that street corner?"

Itami craned across the table to get a better look.

"On that corner, in the middle of your otaku meetup, I intercepted a man named Graham, the lead element of the American C.I.A. Far-East HUMINT group. It was part of a massive, simultaneous sting operation that took down nearly a dozen agents from three different countries...all without causing a scene, and all without letting you know that anything was happening at all."

"What's your point?"

"Sometimes, the world is more complicated than just the things you can see."

Itami nodded, and said, "Fine. So Sherry letting everyone over for a stay is strange. I'll look into it for you. I've still got a few solid contacts in the JSDF we can count on."

Komakado nodded and Itami stood. "I'll be over in Sadera on a contract for the next week, hanging out with all the big names," Itami said. "The news might be a little slow."

"I appreciate whatever you can offer."

As the agent watched him go, he took another sip of coffee and found that it was starting to get cold. With Nguyen gone Komakado was technically off the case, but for some reason he just couldn't let go. He wasn't sure if it was a case of hurt pride at having a target evade him, or the product of too many years in geopolitics and counterespionage making him see conspiracies in the weekly newspaper's sudoku. Maybe it was the frustration at feeling powerless in the face of so much destruction around the world.

But ultimately, maybe it was how he'd felt standing in the airport at Ho CHi Mihn City, about to board a plane back to Narita. He had looked out the window towards the smoke still rising from the city and muttered, "What the heck are we supposed to do now?"

And TC2 Agent Trihn, without skipping a beat and a dead serious look on his face, said, "We'll win, of course."

As a counterespionage agent, he couldn't do much against a god. He couldn't cast magic or fly a fighter jet or launch rockets. What he could to, was make certain that no one on this world or another tried to make things any worse. That was why he could almost feel the Gate travel visa burning a hole in his coat pocket.

On the street below, the Gate yawned open to accept another dignitary. Komakado wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew he'd get to the bottom of it, no matter what the cost.

* * *

 **Groom Lake AFB "Area 51," Nevada, United States**

Carol collapsed to her knees, completely dumbstruck. She didn't know what to feel because she was feeling so many things at once. Amazement, bafflement, excitement, and an endless, profound sense of possibility.

She tried to open her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She tried again. Nothing.

Greta was taking it a little bit better, making Carol wonder if the magnitude of importance that the device beyond the window represented either hadn't occurred to her, of if she'd seen so much change in the past ten years that she just adjusted faster. "A Gate?" Greta said. "That's a Gate?"

Mullan had shown them none of the base aside from this room and refused to answer questions, except to identify the device beyond the window. "Yes," he said. "Technically, it's a machine for creating Gates."

"How?"

"Applied magic."

"No, I mean, how did you get the magic to work with technology?"

"Applied science."

Something bubbled up in Carol's throat, and for a minute she thought she was going to puke, but what came out was, thankfully, laughter instead. " _Greta,_ " she said, "Don't you get it? This breaks _everything._ "

She looked past Greta's confused expression to Mullan and asked, "How accurate is the endpoint?"

"Depends," Mullan said. "If we have navigational satellites giving frequent updates, millimeters. If not...we can at least drop it at ground level of wherever we're aiming—"

" _Where did you test it!?_ "

"Lunar farside," Mullan said. "We wouldn't be offering the moon as an option if we didn't know it would work."

"...lunar...farside…"

"What do you mean by this 'breaking' everything?" Greta asked.

Carol slowly found her feet and leaned against the glass for support. "Up until now, the exploration of space has been held back by a concept called 'They Tyranny of the Rocket Equation'. Basically, moving mass into space takes fuel. Moving that fuel into space takes even more fuel. And getting that fuel up in the air takes more fuel still. By the time you're done, a spacecraft the size of a family car requires a skyscraper's worth of fuel to make it to lunar orbit. But _this_ …" she swept out a hand towards the Gate machine. "This throws the whole rocket equation out the window. You just open a Gate and you're _there_. Want to explore Mars? You can go! Want to tour Apollo sites on the moon? You can go! Want to go drilling for aliens on Enceladus? _You can go!_ Hell, you probably don't even need to drill!" She whirled back to Mullan and asked, "Have you tried any exoplanets yet!? Can it match speed and catch a comet!? Could you—"

Now Greta was laughing too. She glanced back at Mullan and asked, "Was I like this back then?"

Mullan smiled, shrugged and said, "Hey, tech is fun. We haven't really done that much with it, because we're trying to keep its existence a secret. A lot of people are going to lose their jobs if this technology becomes ubiquitous."

That shut Carol up pretty quickly. Controllable Gates would butcher the logistics industry, would make most forms of transport obsolete, and, now that Carol considered it, gut aerospace research. If all you needed a rocket to do was reach geosynchronous or certain heliocentric following or trailing orbits, then modern space technology would more than suffice. There would be no more deep space probes, long duration flight plans or need for a space station anywhere beyond low Earth orbit. Depending on how one looked at it, her own job was possibly at stake.

"For now though," Mullan said, "We need your help dumbing down or simplifying lunar EVA procedures so that a bunch of tech-illiterate magicians can do it. We'll show you the suits and equipment, and give you whatever other resources you need, just please do not go poking around the base. There's a lot of sensitive national security stuff here, and none of us wants a repeat of Alnus and Midgetman."

Recalling the incident, Greta inched closer to Carol, who found herself regaining her calm. It was a good reminder that this _was_ still a military site, and the device in the other room was technically property of the Air Force, or Space Corps, or whatever Mullan was claiming to be a part of. "I think," Carol said, "That our hands are already full with the problem of taking down a god. No need to invite more trouble."

It wasn't until the two women were back in a shared room in the base barracks that Greta said, "Something strange occurred to me."

Carol, who was fixing her hair in a mirror, looked over her shoulder. "Hmm?"

"If they want someone to explain space technology to magicians, why did they choose us?"

"Well," Carol said, "We're both fluent in their languages, and have a reputation of being familiar with the subject—"

She froze. Ten years ago, Mullan had given her the exact same excuses, right before he guided her into hiding a nuclear bomb at Alnus.

A few days earlier, she had specifically asked Robert Clayton about rumors of something in the skies of the Special Region during the confrontation between Sadera and Rondel. Had that been a Gate? At the time, he had looked her in the eye and dismissed all of those rumors as fiction. She opened her hand to look at the palm. The cuts were long gone, but she could still recall the feeling of the blood there.

Which was when it dawned on her that they were technically 'guests' of the most secure military base in the continental United States.

"Carol?"

 _Oh no,_ she thought. She looked away from Greta, back at herself, and could see the concern leaking into her reflected face. _No, no no, no, no._ "Yes?" she tried, but the strain in her voice was audible too.

"Are we in danger?"

"Well," Carol blustered, "An angry god, lots of geopolitical movement, there's a lot of things that could make you tense—"

"No," Greta said, walking up behind her and placing her hands on her mentor's shoulders. "Are we in danger, _right now?_ Is this a dangerous place? Can we trust Mullan?"

Carol didn't know how to answer that. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't—"

Greta grabbed her in a firm hug from behind and said, "You promised me we'd stay together, right? You said you weren't going anywhere and we'd to this whole thing together. They won't take me away, or send me away, or—or—"

She could feel warm tears starting to trickle down the back of her neck, and wished she could do more to comfort Greta. All those years, all those incidents. For now, she said, "How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Survive so many scary things," Carol said with a grim smile. "I mean, it's one thing to see people get guns pointed at them or survive imprisonment or an airplane crash on the news, but you actually lived through all those things. How?"

"I promised myself that I'd get to see you again," Greta said. "Every time, I imagined what it would be like, and how happy I'd be, and how you'd just _explain_ all my problems away. Do you remember Washington D.C.? I was scared then too, I didn't know what I was doing or if any of it was worth it, but _you were there._ Every time you were there to fix things, things got better. Every time you weren't..."

Carol wrapped her arms over Greta's and said, "You had a lot of scary things happen, but you actually got yourself out of a lot of them, either by keeping your cool or pushing ahead when things got rough. To be perfectly honest, you don't need me to—"

" **NO**!" Greta cried, her hug suddenly becoming a crushing squeeze. " _I can't! I can't! I don't want you to go! I don't want to be alone again!_ "

"Greta, you're hurting me!"

Greta immediately let go and dropped onto her bed. "Sorry," she muttered. "I'm sorry, I don't—"

"Listen," Carol said, pulling over a chair and sitting, facing her. "It's okay to be scared, but it's not okay to be immobilized. Right now, I'm really worried. Not because of the battle or the launches or the military or any of those things. I'm worried because I've watched you the last two years, and I don't know what to do to help you. I'm worried that if something happens to me, you won't be able to support yourself."

"I won't _let_ anything happen to you."

"You can't stop everything. I could get sick and die."

"You're a human from Earth with medical technology that can fix illness. I'll just go find the right doctor."

"I'll die of old age either way."

"My species of demihumans has a lifespan two-thirds that of normal humans. I'll die first."

" _Greta,_ " Carol said. "Don't you realize how selfish that sounds?"

"I know—I don't know—I—"she dropped her head into her hands and, sobbing, said, "I'm messed up, aren't I? I thought I was doing alright, but—my head—I can't—"

Carol didn't know what else to say or do. Did she coddle her and risk reinforcing whatever was wrong? Did she keep stern and threaten to make Greta feel worse. Everything that she had told Clayton about Greta's condition was true, particularly the part about the difficulty of finding Greta help. Demihumans where physiologically different, so psychiatry had the potential to do her more harm than good. A host of subtle differences meant that any psychologist Greta could try wouldn't be able to relate to her; demihumans matured at an unimaginable rate, experienced the world at different levels of sensitivity, and had built-in tics and tendencies with no parallel in typical humans. And since Carol wasn't a psychologist herself, she had no idea if whatever Greta was experiencing should be considered from human or animal analogies.

There was one thing she did know at least. "I can't promise it will all work out," Carol said, "And I can't promise that I'll always be around to help you, but I'll say this much. Don't discount yourself. Never that. It's okay to rely on others, but you should be believing in your own abilities too. Do you remember what I wrote on that postcard of the X-15?"

" _You're worth it?_ "

"That's right. I believed that from the beginning, and I still believe it now. You, Greta, have the power to make things better by your own will. You don't need me to certify or ensure your happiness. I can sit here and talk until the sun burns out, but unless _you_ believe you're worth it, my words mean nothing."

Greta started to nod, but Carol stopped her, "No, do you _actually_ understand that?"

"I'm going to need time. It's… hard." She stood. "I'm going for a walk alone to think."

"That's a good idea," Carol said, with a smile and a nod. "Just don't go anywhere you're not supposed to."

The younger woman nodded once more and went for the door. Behind her, Carol let out a breath as the tension she'd been holding for the entire conversation. After all, she wasn't sure that she'd be able to manage it correctly, and was now more confident that she could handle anything her favorite protégée threw her way.

And right before she left, Greta added, "And I love you, you know?"

 _Except that._

* * *

 **THE NEXT DAY**

 **NASA Glenn Research Center, Ohio, United States**

"Interesting," Lelei said, "Let's try it again."

Ayaka wanted to slump over with exhaustion, but the metal gantry counterbalancing her 150 pound spacesuit didn't let her. She wanted to take the helmet off and scratch and itch that had been developing above her left eyebrow for nearly half an hour, but to do so would be deadly.

They were standing inside a facility called the Space Simulation Vacuum Chamber; a room big enough to easily fit a semi-trailer truck which, as the name implied, had all the air sucked out of it by vacuum pumps. Greta and the American woman, Dr. Dawson, had pointed out that there was no air up on the moon, so they had to get used to performing magic with a spacesuit on, in an environment that prevented them from taking shortcuts with their technique, and thoroughly trained them for the real thing. The suit Ayaka wore had been hauled out of storage and hastily modified for walking around instead of floating around the space station, as the original owner had done with it. Whomever that woman was—some Indian woman by the flag still sewn to the arm—had wider hips and a bigger bust than her, and so the suit didn't fit quite right when she tried to move around in it. Still, the NASA engineers assured her that she wouldn't notice at all once she was actually in space. Sure, it might be more comfortable, but it still made her self-conscious.

As it turned out, magic worked somewhat differently in a vacuum with heavy spacesuits compared to how it worked with windbreakers and cloaks on the side of a mountain. For instance, Ayaka had to slide her hand through a fabric loop on the shoulder of Lelei's suit, then tug on a strap to tighten it, otherwise her hand would be too far away for the boosting effect to occur. The other mages had to use spring-triggered scoopers to pick up and move focus crystals on the ground, since the suits did not bend at the waist. Most importantly of all was that when Lelei gave them a countdown to begin the ritual simultaneously, they would mess up and need to restart because even the upgraded Bluetooth communication had latency problems. At the start they had been shown a video of Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin on the moon having to manage the time delay as they took a phone call from then-President Richard Nixon, and told to take that time delay into consideration when talking to mission controllers back on Earth, or when planning to start the ritual.

Just like they had on the mountain, they started the ritual one more time. Instead of affecting the weather, they turned what looked like a big pinwheel around on its axis. It wasn't exactly comparable, but, according to Lelei at least, the speed of the wheel would be a good indicator of the magical forces being projected.

"Ready? Three, two—"

The flywheel, suddenly hit by unequal forces, shuddered and unevenly went once around before stopping. "It's not consistent," Hector argued over the radio. "You could practice counting all day, but if we all start at different times, we'll get nowhere fast."

"But we never had to count up on the mountain!" one of the other magicians argued.

Hector swept out his hands—or tried to. The motion was slow, lumbering, and almost comedic in the thickly padded arms, recycled from some bulky German ESA astronaut. "Does this _look_ like the mountain to you? And to hear Greta and that Dawson woman carry on about it, the moon will be worse! We need a better way."

"Um…" Ayaka attempted, "You know, we could get them to play a metronome over the radio, or a tune with a timed beat."

The other magicians turned to look at her, including Lelei who accidentally pulled Ayaka's strapped-down glove, nearly knocking her over in the process.

"That could work," Lelei said. "Calling… Marshall. Can you play us a piece of music with a distinctive beat to keep us on track? Not too loud please; we still need to be able to hear each other."

The suits were configured to simulate the time delay between the Moon and mission control, so the simulation supervisor replied a few seconds later with, "Marshall to Gold Team, do you have a genre preference?"

"None, Marshall, whatever is easiest for you."

"Okay. One moment."

They waited one minute, then another. Hector looked like he was about to begin shouting when a bass and electric guitar started up. Though Ayaka didn't listen to much western music, there were a few key songs she recognized, and wondered if she should bow to apologize, since _of course_ anyone looking for a clear beat would chose this piece of music first.

 _Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk_

 _I'm a woman's man, no time to talk…_

She looked at her fellow astronauts for a reaction. Of course, Lelei was the only one there who fluently understood English, so she was the only one who might have stood a chance of understanding the lyrics. As they passed the first chorus, she suddenly realized that the whole reason they hadn't reacted yet was because _none of them had ever heard Stayin' Alive before._

To her great despair, when they reached the apparent end, Lelei said, "Again, please."

Ayaka thought she heard snickering on the other end of the line...or maybe it was just a sound artifact. "Sure thing," the mission controller said, and the Beegees resumed their mantra.

"We'll start at 'We can try to understand'," Lelei decided. "Ready…"

They tried again, failed, had a brief argument about where precisely in the lyrics Lelei had meant, and tried once more.

This time, the flywheel moved quickly and evenly. "Good," Lelei said. "We will take a break, then practice the entire thing from beginning to end. Gold Team to Marshall, we are finished for now. Please put the air back into the room."

In response, the room seemed to shudder and shake as it equalized pressure with the atmosphere outside.

On one side of the chamber, a massive door opened and a series of technicians walked through. Each of these had been cleared by the US Military and typically did similar work for the National Reconnaissance Office. While they were used to working with spy satellites rather than people, they generally seemed nicer and more upbeat than the slimy government sorts that Ayaka sometimes saw in TV shows. The two or three that spoke Japanese were polite and patient. Thinking back to her experience during the Ginza incident, she wondered if most countries' government workers were like this, and why they were often portrayed so negatively on the news.

Later, once they were done practicing for the day, Ayaka asked Lelei, "Is there anything else I can do to help? I mean, I feel kind of silly just being a hand on your shoulder."

"What you're doing is fine."

"Do you really need to bring me along though? I mean, any one of the other magicians could have done this better than I, or taken part in the ritual instead of standing behind you as support."

"Perspective," Lelei said, simply.

"Perspective?"

"Our agreement was that, in exchange for your assistance, I would help you find what you are looking for. There is nothing to be gained by leaving you in Falmart, and your odds of finding whatever Rory is waiting for you to find are more likely up on the moon than inside of an apartment room. I also feel as if having someone familiar with Earth technology and politics would be beneficial, in case we forget to think of something. Your suggestion of using music, for example, was very helpful."

They had been so busy that Ayaka hadn't had much time to think about her personal dilemma. If anything, working that much made the worry of things seeming 'real' or 'fake' very remote. _Is it distraction, or is it part of the solution?_

As they walked along the path to the facility cafeteria, Lelei started to hum. It was only after a few bars that Ayaka recognized it as _Stayin' Alive_.

 _Oh no,_ she thought, _what have I done?_

* * *

 **The Vehicle Assembly Building, Kennedy Space Center, Florida, United States**

From one of the top platforms, Barton peered down at the massive vehicle occupying the High Bay.

The Space Launch System—SLS for short—was the largest and most expensive rocket in the US inventory since the Apollo Program's Saturn V. The variant in front of him was powered by twin solid rocket boosters reminiscent of those used during the Space Shuttle Program, used a slightly modified version of the Space Shuttle Main Engines, and was overall about twelve inches taller than the original Saturn moon rocket. In exchange, SLS cost half a billion dollars to build and launch, meaning that launches were rare, and the political will to continue launching it had been on borrowed time since development of the rocket finished. Over the years, many commenters had taken to calling it the Senate Launch System, due to how it seemed designed to funnel money into congressional districts, rather than function as an exploration vehicle.

This particular rocket had been scheduled to deliver a habitat module to the Lunar Orbiting Platform-Gateway (The name had changed between Dirrel's administration and Mahana's), but that part of the mission had been struck from the manifest. The module now sat in the Assembly Building's nearby Low Bay as the rocket was prepared and reconfigured to take part in the international retaliation against an enemy god. It was truly overkill for the planned mission, but they needed every manned rocket they could get their hands on, and SLS and its Orion Crew Vehicle fit the job description.

A small handful of Congressmen actually had the gall to complain about the emergency buyout of nearly three billion dollars of American space launchers. Barton, to his credit, had reminded them that without the success of the mission, they might not _have_ constituents for much longer. Even more amazing, he had done it without a single expletive or instruction on where to shove any of their other, equally stupid ideas.

And they had complained all the way, of course, including through the international pact to protect launch sites through the final mission date, which included allowing Canadian and even Mexican military aircraft into US airspace. Spacecraft, as over-designed as they were, were ultimately fragile things, and they couldn't afford to lose even one of them.

Would it work? Barton wasn't entirely sure, but he did know one fact that the general public did not. Based on the amount of time between the first and second attacks, military analysts had concluded that their launch window would bump up right against the projected time of a third attack.

Would they succeed? Barton didn't know if Dawson's plan would work, or if Lelei's magicians really could maneuver planetary-scale objects through magic, or if the nations of the world could safely launch a sufficient number of rockets, even though calling the experience a 'rush-job' was putting it mildly. They would be lucky if only two or three of the rockets exploded.

But that was how it went, and as Barton turned to leave the platform, he wondered, if only for a moment, what the world would be like if so many rocket launches in the same day were to become commonplace.

 _Only one way to find out,_ he thought. _We've got to win this, no matter the cost._


	14. Chapter 13 - Deorbit Burn

**THE EVENING BEFORE THE LAUNCH**

 **Groom Lake AFB "Area 51", United States**

Carol had no idea what to do, and no idea who to trust. If Clayton was scheming something, she couldn't trust Mullan, and if she directly expressed her concerns to Greta, she'd have a meltdown on her hands. She needed someone with a cooler head, and that was how she found herself on a video call with Antony Kuragin.

Wherever in Russia Kuragin was, it was clearly several hours later than anywhere in the Continental US. He was sitting in what looked like an apartment room, but he was still fully clothed and had a cup of coffee in one hand. "Is something the matter?" he asked.

"I don't know."

"If this is about tomorrow's launch, I cannot sleep either," he said. "I have been running the models for the effects of Van Allen radiation at different depths and intensities, just to convince myself that we are not about to accidentally set the atmosphere on fire."

"No," Carol said. "I mean, that part isn't helping, but it's something else."

"Really? The whole world is at stake, and you're worried about something else…" he took a long sip from his cup, set it down on the table in front of it, and said, "so this is about Greta."

"How did you—"

"You spend so much time doting on her, it could not be anything else."

Was it really that obvious? Carol supposed so, now that she properly thought it over. "I'm worried about her," she said. "She suffers from the worst case of separation anxiety I've ever seen. With all the violence going on right now, she said a few things that made me scared about what she would do if something happened to me. I've tried explaining to her that it's not right, but she won't listen, and I don't know what else to do."

"So you are calling me?"

"You're used to working with graduate students around Greta's age. I'm… not."

Kuragin laughed. "That doesn't make me an expert in the human condition. Who do you think I am, Tolstoy?"

"But—"

"Do you have children of your own?"

Carol balked at the question. "That has nothing to do with this!"

"I disagree. Do you, or don't you?"

She was rarely asked about that topic, and whenever she was, she had always brushed it aside. "No," she said, looking away from the screen. Feeling an almost accusatory silence from the computer she added, "Never did, never will… not my choice."

"Did you consider adoption? Have you ever cared for a niece or nephew?"

"Get to the point."

"You're treating Greta like a child," Kuragin said, "But it's an incomplete version of the treatment. You've never scolded or punished her, have you?"

"But after all she's been through—"

" _Especially_ after all she has been through," Kuragin said. "If she relies on you as much as you like to believe, then you are doing her a disservice by not putting your foot down at some point."

When she didn't reply, Kuragin added, "Perhaps it is different in America, but I suppose it is worth asking, what is loyalty like in Greta's home country?"

 _Was that what this was? Loyalty?_ She had heard stories, and had talked with some of the men in Alnus long ago. Mountains of corpses had indicated at least one thing about the people of Falmart; they followed through on their convictions. "Absolute," Carol said.

"Then you must put your foot down, before she does something hurtful to herself or others."

It was a hard truth, but perhaps he was right. "I'll think about it," she said.

Kuragin gave a grim smile and a nod. "This has been an awful week, but I believe things will improve. Given enough time, who knows? I may still get my chance to prove Youmei wrong about Moon Phizons!"

* * *

 **THE NEXT DAY, 0330 UTC**

 **Satish Dhawan Space Center, India**

The two magicians were already heavily jet-lagged, and not particularly interested in being awake or alive when members of the Gaganyaan ground crew woke them that morning.

"Do you think there will be anything to eat before we go up?" One asked the other.

"Do you really want to risk it?" the other replied. "They said that stuff floats around up there. It would be really bad if you threw up while you have a helmet on."

"I'll just have to force it down, then," the first magician said. "I refuse to go up on an empty stomach."

Together they pushed the door open and found themselves awash in tropical air.

* * *

 **Tanegashima Space Center, Japan**

"What if we're wrong?"

"We're right," the technician said, as he sealed off the wiring compartment. Both of them were standing right next to Japan's experimental _Nagarebochi_ space capsule, which was based off of much of the same technology which had been used on the automated HTV cargo vehicle that had ferried supplies from the International Space Station for many years. It was a wonder of Japanese engineering. It was the product of Japan's finest minds, and years of research and testing. It was a space capsule to rival all of its foreign counterparts.

It had never been flown before.

There had been a great deal of trepidation in making the _Nagarebochi_ part of the international space mission, given its highly experimental nature, but the Diet had made it clear that they were grasping at straws, and the more magicians they could put into space, regardless of the means, the better off everyone on Earth would be.

Unfortunately, that meant that the success of the mission was not only a question of success on a limited scale, but a matter of national pride. The technician thought about it again and said, "Very well, one more check."

* * *

 **Adelaie, Australia**

"And that's really it?" the Royal Australian Air Force officer asked the pad technician.

"Seems that way," the technician said. While Australia did not have access to manned spaceflight, they were one of several nations that could successfully launch a payload into Low Earth Orbit. That meant that they had the chance to be one of several small-sat launchers around the globe that had been handed a shipment of Special Region Focus Crystals, along with a time and orbital parameters.

The fact that the craft was unmanned meant that the majority of preparations had been completed the night before. That was good, the Air Force officer reflected. If he had been forced to sit on his hands and wait while other countries countered the force that damaged Sydney and later Melbourne, he would have gone mad.

Besides, New Zealand was sending a Focus Crystal up too with their Electron rocket, and he'd be damned if Australia got shown up by a bunch of Kiwis.

* * *

 **Baikonur, Kazakhstan**

"Wait, wait, stop the bus!" one of the cosmonauts called.

The magician with them looked up his two crewmates, confused. "Is something wrong!?"

"Yes," the cosmonaut stated, and explained to the driver his concern in fast Russian.

"Please," the pad manager said, "We are on a tight schedule, and we cannot—"

"It must be done, Evgeny!"

A few seconds passed, but the driver and pad manager eventually relented, and their transport ground to a halt. 'What are we doing?" the magician asked, and was extremely shocked as the cosmonauts went around to the back of the car and began to undo their pants zippers.

"You must do so as well," the other cosmonaut insisted. "Very important."

The magician looked back and forth between the two cosmonauts and asked, "Does every mission do this?"

The Russians nodded emphatically. " _Every mission_ ," one said, letting loose on the rear tire of the van. "Since Yuri Gagarin. Every mission."

It was one of a handful of strange traditions the magician had witnessed, but he wasn't about to complain. Besides, the launch made him nervous… may as well get it out of his system now.

When they finished, one of the cosmonauts grabbed him by the shoulder and gave him a friendly shake. "It's good luck!" he said, "Now we will succeed for sure!"

* * *

 **Kennedy Space Center Launch Complex 40, United States**

"Okay...stop!"

The end of the crane jerked to a halt, and the view over the rail gave Bill an uncomfortable sense of disorientation.

He was dangling over the nose of a Crew Dragon Capsule, perched at the end of a horizontally-laying Falcon 9 rocket. Unlike the SpaceX Employees over at Launch Complex 39A, or the Boeing employees at Complex 41, 40 did not have a crew access tower. That meant that the astronauts needed to be loaded while the rocket was horizontal, then would need to wait as the whole thing was lifted to vertical. As with so many things in this operation, it had never been done this way before, and he knew that some of the technicians were terrified that the capsule's groundside wall would collapse if too many people tried to stand on it.

Supposedly this process had already been tested earlier by the SpaceX pad at Vandenberg, who were able to get a refurbished capsule in from Hawthorne, California faster than the site all the way in Florida.

...still…

He looked down at the three waiting astronauts, all of whom looked impatient and ready to go. He didn't envy them… but at the same time he couldn't help but think how lucky there were to have an opportunity like this.

He keyed his Bluetooth microphone and said, "Okay, let's put them in!"

* * *

 **Vandenberg AFB, United States**

Unknown to their compatriots, one American vehicle was having similar concerns to the Japanese.

A pair of Air/Space Force fighter pilots surveyed the mini-shuttle before them. Officially, the X-37C did not exist beyond the drawing board, but the truth of the matter was that it had been flying on flights _supposedly_ dedicated to its smaller, uncrewed sister, the X-37B, since 2025. In that time, it had tested everything from engine and materials experiments to close-in satellite observation and capture.

It had not, however, actually flown humans before. To do so would have meant showing the world that the vehicle was crew-capable, and the Military just wasn't ready for that yet.

"Is it safe?" the magician behind them asked.

The two test pilots looked at each other. An unspoken truth about airmen was that the top three things they aspired to, from lowest to highest, were testing out a new high-performance aircraft, flying as an astronaut, and testing a new spacecraft. This was as close to living the dream as they would ever get.

"Dunno," the co-pilot said with a grin. "Let's find out!"

* * *

 **Ariane Pad 3, French Guiana**

RAF Captain Evans checked the front panel on the Dream Chaser once more, then sat back in the near-darkness to wait.

With the rest of the Ariane 6's fairing in place, the inside of the Sierra Nevada Dream Chaser would have been pitch-black, if not for the glow of the cockpit indicator lights and display panels.

Evans glanced to his right and his co-pilot, Bundeswehr Major Schmidt looked back at him. "You know," Schmidt said, "I wonder if the other spacecraft has had more luck with their magician."

A mile away, an identical rocket with an identical spaceplane atop carried another magician, plus a pair of ESA astronauts from Italy and France. Neither Evans nor Schmidt had met their mage, but they assumed that all magicians couldn't be so scared, could they?

Looking over his shoulder, Evans could see some poor middle-aged woman strapped into one of the passenger seats. The magician's hands were wrapped tightly about her knees, and she looked as if she was so scared she might piss herself.

"We'll be fine!" The German called down to her, "Daijoubu, _ja?_ "

The woman nodded hurriedly, but said nothing else.

Even with the accelerated training, there was only so much you could teach a person, and looking around, the British man realized that it was entirely likely that not a single thing surrounding the woman was familiar in any way, shape, or form. "Well," he said, "Stay calm, and don't die on us. Okay?"

* * *

 **Boca Chica, Texas, United States**

Ellie had initially been training to go up on a Crew Dragon capsule which was snug, but still substantially more spacious than the bolted-together spaceplane Greta had sent her up in two years earlier. She was familiar with those controls, and had been training nearly a year for a journey that led to the International Space Station.

But that was not her destination this time, nor was the Dragon her means of conveyance.

Instead, she looked across the control cabin of a rocket that needed to be described as 'Spacious'. The _Heart of Gold_ was not like any other ship currently flying, being nearly triple the diameter of a Dragon Capsule and with far, far, far more habitable space. Sure, the command console was virtually identical, but the massive space in the room behind her was a different story.

The SpaceX Starship was the pinnacle of space engineering. In her conversations with Greta and her mentor, Carol, it was this vehicle that they talked about when asked about the future. When combined with the "Super Heavy" (formerly BFR, or Big "Falcon" Rocket) beneath it, the completed vehicle could put people on the lunar surface. There was also a claim that with enough refueling missions it could fly all the way to Mars, but Ellie wasn't quite willing to spend _that_ long stuck inside.

The six magicians of Backup Red Team were all strapped down in the living quarters two decks below her, and she wouldn't be seeing any of them until they were in orbit. That was fine, but she continued to regret that Hector wasn't there. Had he been, he probably would have said something like, _Eyes forward, girl!_

After allowing herself an amused smile over the old man, Ellie flipped through the exterior video monitors and settled for one that looked east, over the Gulf coast. It was strange to think that after so many years learning to navigate for ships at sea, the ship she was finally to helm followed an entirely different set of rules for motion, position, and weather.

As she watched, she thought she saw a smudge out at sea. She carefully reached out with the non-capacitive backside of her spacesuited hand to try and rub the distortion away, but before she could do so, she noticed that a portion of the sky seemed to twist.

Ellie had seen this effect before. It seemed like their adversary was making one final attempt to stop them.

"Launch control," she said into the ship's communication system. "Is that a Gate out there?"

* * *

 **Above Tanegashima Island**

Valerie Liang had taken part in joint air exercises away from Singapore before, but none quite as bizarre as this. She and the rest of her squadron had been deployed over a Japanese island with full armament. They weren't the only ones there either; in addition to elements of the JASDF, Liang had also spotted fighters from Taiwan, Korea, and US fighters from Okinawa in the massive metal torus slowly spinning its way over Tanegashima. "Contact, bearing 150," her flight lead said over the radio, and she glanced over her right shoulder to see that another one of the damn Gates had opened up. This one, much like the Gate over Singapore, was spewing flying creatures everywhere.

Their orders were simple; no harm could be allowed to come to the launching rocket.

"All planes," the controller on the island said, "You are clear to engage. Do your best to lead the enemy away from the launch facility, but defend the rocket at all costs."

Liang looked up and around her plane. Above them, a flight of F-15Ks went into afterburner. To the side, a group of Japanese F-3s followed suit.

"Lion Squadron, engaging," Her flight lead replied, "Pilot with the fewest kills pays for drinks once we get back."

In response, Liang grinned beneath her oxygen mask, said, "You're on," and pushed the throttle to maximum.

* * *

 **Vostochny, Russia**

Colonel Goremikyn looked down on his enemies from the hatch of the R-166 command vehicle. The enemy god had decided to deploy the Gate to the southeast of the space center—a bad move, in Goremikyn's opinion, as that meant that the enemy would be hemmed in by the Zeya River.

Not that he particularly cared. What forces were not redirected to Baikonur or the other launch sites were beside him at Vostochny. Looking down the line to his left, dozens of T-14s waited for his command.

The land was relatively flat and open, and it was only a matter of time before the air filled with MiGs and Sukhois to steal his fun.

He raised the handset to his radio. "All units, forward! Push the enemy all the way back to their hole!"

As he dropped back into the vehicle, even over the roar of the engines, he thought he could hear the reply.

 _Uraaaaaaaa!_

* * *

 **Vandenberg AFB**

The Flame Dragon that popped its head out of the Gate on the desert floor was not as intelligent as a human, but it did have a small amount of smarts. Specifically, it was intelligent enough to understand that it was compelled to destroy two flying trees; one orange, one white; and it could see both from this distance. As was natural for its kind, it took to the air and immediately turned into an attack pattern. The 'trees' seemed exposed enough, and to blast them with fire would be a simple matter.

However, intelligence and knowledge are two very different things, and the dragon did not know a few key facts.

It did not know that it was on the West Cost of the United States.

It did not know that there were about thirty Air Force Bases and a handful of Naval Air Stations on the Western side of the United States.

It did not know that these bases operated a combined total of about five hundred combat aircraft.

And it did not know, right until it looked up, that all five hundred of them, plus several dozen Canadian and Mexican jets, were diving down on it and its fellow monsters in a cyclone of steel death.

That day, Boeing, Lockheed Martin, and Northrop Grumman solidly proved that, with enough bullets and missiles, even Fire Dragon scales could be perforated.

* * *

 **Marshall Space Flight Center, Alabama, United States**

"Are we still Go?" the Flight Director asked.

McKennan clicked on his headset and said, "We have four Go from Kennedy, one Go from Boca Chica, and two Go from Vandenberg. Nearby combat action has yet to disable any of our pads."

The flight director nodded. They did not have a direct line to any of the other space centers around the globe. If this had been Houston, they would at least have a convenient way of getting in touch with the Russians in Moscow, but from Marshall they had to work with what they had. Even then, they had all agreed to launch times and orbital parameters days before, with layers of back-up plans in case any of the rockets failed.

All they really could do was hope and pray. The flight director took one last look up at the mission countdown clock and said, "Okay, let's make this work!"

* * *

 **The International Space Station**

Around the world, countdown clocks hit zero, and the world itself seemed to roar to life.

Hundreds of engines, spewing millions of pounds of force, hauled hundreds of tons of metal and fuel and flesh up into the air.

On rare occasion, Station Commander and ESA Astronaut Gerald Davault was able to capture a single rocket as it broke through the atmosphere with his camera, but often the time of day or the orbital position did not allow for it.

Not today.

This time they were coming from everywhere. Rockets carrying the mages lifted off from The United States, Russia, China, Japan, French Guiana, Kazakhstan, and India. Still more carrying loads of Focus Crystals followed suit from the UK, Australia, New Zealand, Brazil, Israel, South Korea, and one or two others. Points of light or white spikes that seemed to rise from the surface of the planet below before hooking over into their planned orbital trajectories.

It was a beautiful sight, one Davault wasn't sure he would ever see again.

He looked around at his crewmates who were also observing the spectacle from the station Cupola and said, "Come on, we need to get to the radiation shelters before they begin."

* * *

 **Groom Lake AFB "Area 51", United States**

Ayaka wasn't sure if the feeling she felt in her gut was excitement or panic… all she did know was that the situation was now out of her hands.

To her right, she could see the bulbous shape of the Lunar Electric Rover, a six-wheeled electrically powered, pressurized truck designed to work in low-pressure environments like the Moon or Mars. One curious feature of the design was the pair of spacesuits which were 'docked' to rear hatches on the vehicle. Inside one of the spacesuits, an American astronaut looked back at her, raised a hand in greeting, and let it fall again under the heavy weight of the suit.

Before her, she could look up at the windows of the observation room. There, she could see Carol and Greta watching a set of TV screens which appeared to be broadcasting a bunch of rocket launches going on around the world. Next to them, General Mullan was talking into a collar radio.

Finally, to her left waited Lelei, who appeared lost in thought. Ayaka didn't know if this was some kind of meditation, or simply more of Lelei's usual dryness, but it was comforting in a way to see. After all, Lelei had no experience with moon trips. If Lelei could handle it, Ayaka decided, so could she.

Beyond Lelei, she could see the massive door from the surface to the deployment room swing shut. This door was supposedly airtight, and would allow them to pump the air out of the room and open the Gate without losing any of Earth's atmosphere to deep space.

From outside her suit, she heard the air pumps begin to hum as the room started to depressurize.

"Are you nervous?" Lelei asked.

Ayaka nodded but, realizing that Lelei probably couldn't see the movement, said simply, "Yes."

"Good," Lelei said. "I would be concerned if you weren't nervous in this scenario."

"Why?" Ayaka asked. "Are you?"

The magician had no reply. Instead, they were both interrupted by Hector who declared, "The longer I wait, the more nervous I get. Let's get this overcomplicated wagon moving already!"

"Starting Phizon cascade," one of the controllers announced over the general loop. "Adjusting power flow...coordinates locked in. Opening Gate in three, two, one—"

The transmission was interrupted by a burst of static, and Ayaka jerked forward in her harness, trying to see around the LER to the Gate machine beyond, but she couldn't. Instead, she waited as the vehicle towed them up a small ramp, forward several meters, and then…

She saw a few errant flashes of light, a glimmer that came from no single source, and everywhere at once, and they were there.

Compared to the stark brightness of the Gate Deployment room, the place they were in was at once brighter and dimmer. Brighter because the direct rays of the sun prompted Ayaka to reach up and snap down her gold-plated sun visor. Darker because the sky was pitch black, and the ground as far as they could see was a deep, soot-like gray.

One of the airmen in the LER announced, "Congratulations, and welcome to the Sea of Storms. The weather is 127 degrees Celsius with zero chance of rain, and if you're looking for a cool tourist trap, feel free to check out the Apollo 12 landing site ten klicks east of here."

After a minute or so, the LER and its trailer came to a halt and the airmen said, "Okay, you can detach from the trailer now."

When Ayaka had practiced the maneuver on Earth, the arms of her suit had been heavy and bulky, but here they seemed to spring up and whip around at speeds faster than she'd expected.

One of the two American astronauts detached from the SEV to help the magicians in their preparations. As she unhooked herself, she went to take a step and found herself lunging off the trailer platform instead. She landed on one foot, wobbled, lost her balance, and fell onto her front, yelling, "Damn it!"

"Are you alright?" Lelei called from the trailer.

"Yeah, I just fell over, that's all."

But she could hear the American astronauts snickering.

"What?" she said.

"You're the first Japanese citizen on the moon, right?" one of the astronauts said.

"I—yes, I suppose so."

"What were your first words?"

Ayaka thought back over what had just happened and realized with mounting horror what she had just done. "Please forget I said that!" she cried, moved to bow, and nearly toppled over again.

Back by the trailer, Lelei stepped off first and, kicking at the regolith with her boot, declared, "It's softer than I imagined. We can still work with this."

"Okay, you just show us where you want the equipment."

It was sloppy work for the first fifteen minutes as they adjusted to moving around in reduced gravity. The lunar dust made for an absolute mess in setting up the pentagram, and a few times they had to stop everything and redirect their motions to clear off the focus crystals planted in the ground or retrace the lines already drawn.

Once during their work, Ayaka wondered why she couldn't see the stars and looked up. What she saw took her breath away.

Above her, the Earth was about as big as a golf ball held at arm's length. Even at that size, she could see sunlight reflecting off the bright blue Pacific and the patchy white of clouds. On the darker side, she could see flecks of dim orange, whole cities full of people shimmering through the night.

 _That's everything,_ she realized, and found herself gripped by sudden panic. If they failed… if they did not manage to destroy the Gate-making entity that struck at Osaka...they would have nowhere else to run.

Lots of people were depending on them. They _had_ to make this work.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and nearly bumped her helmet into Lelei's. The woman had her staff wrapped up in an airtight bag and tucked under one arm, but apparently it would still work in that condition. "We still have much to do," the magician said. "We can look around once the mission is complete."

Ayaka nodded, said, "I'll do my best," and joined the other magicians back at the pentagram.

* * *

 **Alnus, the Special Region**

"I don't know," Bozes said with a shrug. "My husband said that Kengun had emergency orders for everyone, and that many of the JSDF soldiers went north to Italica."

Komakado looked to the chair next to her, where Tomita's eight-year-old daughter, Mai, was slowly working her way through a set of long addition problems for school. Seeming to notice his eyes on her, the girl looked up at him and asked, 'Are you a knight too?"

The intelligence agent smirked. "I guess so," he said. "I don't do much fighting anymore."

"Oh," Mai said. "I want to be in the army too, but Mom won't teach me how to use a sword."

"Mai!" Bozes chided. "The army is dangerous and scary. You wouldn't like it very much."

"But you and Aunt Pina learned swords when you were kids!"

"We learned the wrong way, no one took us seriously, and it did no good at all once Japan came through the Gate," Bozes argued.

Komakado nodded and added, "Your mother is right. Besides, no one uses swords anymore. Even the Falmart Republic is switching to guns."

"Really?" Mai pouted, disappointed, then her eyes widened, excited. "Komakado-san, Komakado-san!" she said, "Teach me how to use a gun!"

" _No!_ " the adults replied in unison.

The conversation reminded Komakado about how uneasy he felt at hearing that the Falmart Republic would be allowed to purchase from Earth arms manufacturers. Thinking about it brought up images of African and Middle Eastern warlords stocking up on former-Soviet weaponry, and the seemingly endless stream of anti-piracy actions the JMSDF participated in out of Djibouti. Give a gun to a civilization that simply saw it as a source of power, who knew what would happen?

His cell phone buzzed, an uncomfortable surprise considering as the Alnus cellular network wasn't always reliable, and he was amused to see that the message was from Tomita himself. "It's your husband," Komakado told Bozes. "He says…"

As he read the message, the blood drained from his face. Suddenly, he realized _exactly_ what was going on. Komakado stood up so quickly that he knocked the chair over. "You said the army went to Italica?" he asked.

"Yes, but—"

"No time, I need to go! If I fail, take Mai and get as far away from the Gate, Italica, and Sadera as you can."

"Why?"

Komakado had just enough time to look back at Bozes and give his answer. "Someone is trying to start a war."

* * *

 _Author's note:_

The Skies series has always been written with a sense of optimism with regards to upcoming military and space technologies; militaries use all of the experimental equipment in the field, and space agencies complete all of their launcher plans on time and with zero technical concerns. The launches and vehicles described above reflect military and space ambitions as they stood in 2017, and while it is impossible to say that all of them will be fulfilled by 2027 (some, like the Japanese spacecraft, have already been cancelled), I am assuming that all of them were successful for the sake of the story.

There is, however, one element of pessimism. Once upon a time there was a vehicle called the Small Pressurized Rover (SPR), which became the Lunar Electric Rover (LER), which became the Space Exploration Vehicle (SEV), which was further clarified into the Multi-mission SEV (MMSEV). Since the name of this vehicle changes roughly once every six years, I decided to revert back to the Constellation-era name LER for the sake of keeping its function clear in the context of the story.


	15. Chapter 14 - Descent

**Outside Formal Manor, Italica**

What to do with The Saderan Empire's nobility after the move from Feudal Empire to Parliamentary Republic had been an interesting question, one that Clayton had not envied the American and Japanese lawyers to help the Imperial Senate to come up with. Ultimately, the decision was made to put each city or county to a vote once every ten years to keep the current noble or replace them with an elected mayor or governor. If the people wished to keep the noble, then the nobility could remain in control of the city through the current generation and whichever generation followed, but all subsequent noble descendants would lose their titles, and would keep a federally designated percentage of their family's wealth before being discharged from their castles and manors, which would in turn become permanent government offices.

About half of all cities and counties voted to evict their nobles on the first referendum. Another quarter had their nobles resign voluntarily, with a decent fraction then being elected to the parliament in Sadera. Countess Myui Formal was an example of the quarter that remained though, watching her dart around the garden as hostess, Clayton couldn't help but wonder if the young woman was beginning to wish she had taken the money and quit.

The large gardens around the noble manor had been turned into a temporary staging area for nearly a dozen Earth heads of state. Seeing them as guests, Myui had stressed herself out on trying to provide accommodations for them all; a task made all the more difficult by each country's respective security teams breathing down the neck of their neighbors and the insistence that Formal Manor itself be kept off-limits to the Earth guests. "We must draw the line somewhere," Sherry had insisted.

Sherry herself was chatting with the German Chancellor over glasses of imported champagne. At this distance, they were too far away to hear, and Clayton wondered what the two might be talking about. _Is Colt and Remington not enough? Does she plan on buying from Heckler and Koch too?_

A number of other national leaders were crowded around a large projector screen. In particular, President Mahana, Zyuganov, and the leaders of China and India were patiently and quietly waiting to hear the results of the rocket launches.

On screen, someone was running a stream of BBC News where the broadcaster was standing beside a chart marking off each rocket launch as it happened. "And we have just been informed that the last of the Russian spacecraft, which had been reporting a solar panel deployment problem, is now functioning normally and we are now showing all fifteen of the low-orbit spacecraft successfully in place. We are still waiting for the two high-orbit spacecraft, NASA's Orion and the SpaceX Starship to finish their final burns at Apogee, which will place them both into the arranged higher orbits."

"See!" Zyuganov said, leaning a bit too far into the Indian Prime Minister's personal space. "I told you, Federatsiya is just as robust as Soyuz! You should work with us on the lunar orbit version."

The Indian Prime Minister nodded politely, but clearly just wanted to continue focusing on the program.

Nearby, Mahana was tapping his knee with one finger, and looked up as the NASA Deputy Administrator, who had come along at the President's request, leaned over and said, "Marshall says the EUS on SLS is performing nominally. They've got this."

"And the other one?"

"Still on track. The SpaceX booster landed safely back at Boca Chica, and the initial burn with the Raptor engines went without a problem. Even so, my contact at Hawthorne says _you-know-who_ has been up and pacing back and forth for the last fifteen minutes while they wait for confirmation on the final burn. The guy hasn't slept in days and he's still on his feet… that's pretty amazing."

Mahana smirked. "God bless 'em."

Clayton had gotten so caught up in following the conversation that he had missed Sherry approaching him from the side. She tilted her champagne glass at the screen and asked, "All going according to plan so far?"

The ambassador shrugged. "I've followed enough operations in my time to know that it's not over 'til it's over. A lot can still go wrong."

Sherry offered him a sweet smile. "Well, I have every confidence in American technology. I'm sure that everything will ultimately turn out fine."

Clayton returned a smile that he didn't feel. He had a rather strong suspicion, and he had taken certain steps to see that the product of that suspicion would not come to pass. "Say," he said, "Have you seen Minister Kouhara anywhere?"

"She was talking on a radio with General Kengun earlier," Sherry said. "Shall I send someone to fetch her for you?"

"No, that's alright. I'm sure we'll be seeing her soon."

The Falmart Prime Minister gave him a respectful bow, mimicking her missing Japanese counterpart, and returned to the crowd. Once he was certain she had started a new conversation, Clayton checked his watch. If they were running on schedule, the next pieces should be moving into position shortly. One hand drifted into his jacket pocket and the cellphone within.

One call was all it would take.

* * *

 **High Earth Orbit**

"Hmm… I guess that's correct?" Ellie said as she glanced over the arrangement one more time.

They had finished their final burn at Apogee five minutes earlier, and she had been first out of the control cabin. Hours of practice meant that she was somewhat used to zero-gravity flight, but the amount of space, along with the fact that the spacecraft did not waver up and down like the parabolic flight patterns on Earth trainers, meant that the feeling of moving around the spacecraft was surreal. She wasn't nauseous; Monarchs were too well adjusted to the rigors of difficult flight for something as simple as that, but she did need to struggle against the involuntary twitches of her wings, which wanted to throw themselves out to help her maintain a balance that wasn't required. Perhaps later she'd stretch them out, but for the moment she had a job to do.

Over the previous few minutes, she had peeled each magician out of their flight suits, then hauled each one into the communal space and used carabiners to lock each one to a series of nylon cables strung across the cabin. By the time she was done, the magicians seemed to be enjoying the experience of floating, and she had to remind them not to play around too much, and focus on their work.

With the magicians and focus crystals all in place, Ellie pointed towards a countdown clock on the wall and said, "Ready everyone?"

The magicians nodded and oriented themselves for the task ahead. They had, for the most part, managed to put together a casting pattern, and began focusing on the spell.

This was the one truly untested component of the whole project. Magic casting worked on a planet surface, but the sole example of magic functioning in outer space had been on Ellie's own flight with Hector two years prior.

She looked at the countdown timer one more time. Noticing that some of the magicians already had their eyes closed, Ellie announced the time.

"Three, two one…"

* * *

 **Sea of Storms, The Moon**

Ayaka looked back as the LER disappeared over the hill. The astronauts had said that they would be back in an hour or two, and that their spacesuits had over six hours of oxygen in case something went wrong. "The effects of magic on the moon are unknown," one of the astronauts explained. "We're clearing out of the way for now, and will come back to pick you up when this is all over."

Just as she'd practiced, Ayaka tied her hand onto the shoulder of Lelei's suit and waited for the ritual to begin. Meanwhile, Lelei watched a digital timer on her suit wrist, said, "As we rehearsed," and pressed a start button on the control panel below it.

The radio channel was suddenly full of 80s disco and Ayaka suppressed a groan. If nothing else, the best part of the whole mission was that, when they finished, she would never need to listen to _Stayin' Alive_ ever again. Swallowing her irritation, she focused on the spell, on granting Lelei her power so that they had the best chance at success. As one, the mages lifted their staves, started the spell and…

* * *

 **Low Earth Orbit**

From the seat of her CST-100 "Starliner", Boeing test pilot Katie Anderson took a video recording of the cleansing as it occurred.

It started with a bright green flash over the Pacific ocean, which gradually stretched out into a line that ran from pole to pole. It was as if someone had unlooped the Aurora Borealis, tied it to the end of an unlooped Aurora Australis, and was tugging it around the planet at the equator.

She couldn't imagine what must have been going on back on Earth. She knew that all flights worldwide had been grounded, the civilians asked to seek shelter, and every home and business had been asked to unplug or shield all the electronics they could to prevent power surges.

Anderson tried to imagine what it would have been like to be a person standing below, to see the giant wave of energy wash across the sky from horizon to horizon. Did it feel differently somehow to the people on the ground? What affect would it have on the world's animals and plants and oceans? There were still so many questions, and no way of knowing until they landed.

She watched as the colossal wave of cosmic radiation swept through Earth's atmosphere once, then twice, then dissipate somewhere over the Atlantic.

The magician's eyes popped open and he said, "It is done."

* * *

 **Sea of Storms** , **The Moon**

"Something's wrong," Lelei said.

Ayaka's head snapped up. They had been fewer than five minutes into casting the spell, and she noticed that the other magicians had lowered their staves, confused.

Lelei shut off the recording of the Beegees and said, "Is anyone else noticing the lack of a boost?"

"There's _nothing,_ " Hector said, holding his staff parallel to the ground. "If I were on the summit of a mountain in the Special Region, I would be getting noticeable spell feedback. Standing on the moon, the feedback should be massive and intense, but here there's absolutely nothing. If anything, my magic feels _less_ powerful out here!"

"Could they have made a mistake?" Ayaka asked. "Maybe they set us down at the wrong place? Maybe—"

Lelei held up a hand. "There is no time. We must try again if we are to support the other magicians back at Earth, boost or not. Ayaka, untie your hand from my shoulder, find the LER and the astronauts, and try to find out what happened."

Ayaka was used to freeing her hand from Lelei's suit, and the moment she could move, she lurched her way in the direction of the American electric rover. Each step threw her and the suit further along than she was expecting, and she constantly felt as if she would fall over. "Almost there!" She told herself as she neared the top of the hill. "Almost—almost—"

At the top of the hill, she stopped. The trailer that the magicians had ridden was parked on the other side of the hill, its communications array deployed and pointing to Earth.

The LER, and the Gate that lead back to Earth, were gone.

* * *

 **Groom Lake AFB "Area 51", United States**

"They're back already?" Carol asked, looking out of the window into the departure room. "I thought they weren't supposed to come back for an hour or so?"

The LER was sitting in the middle of the room, and the astronauts aboard were waiting patiently as the Gate closed and the air filtering in around them returned the air pressure to normal. Carol looked at Mullan for some explanation, but the General stood there, completely impassive, waiting.

When the room was finally pressurized, the LER motored its way out of a steel pressure door and into a tunnel.

Moments later, another vehicle appeared, and all of Carol's fears were fully realized.

* * *

 **Italica Train Station**

Komakado barged his way off of the train and onto the platform. Few people were there at this hour, and while he knew it was rude, he didn't stop to apologize to a single one of them. He knew that the Special Region natives and foreigners wouldn't care...and the Japanese people would simply need to forgive him. From this distance, Formal Manor looked so far away, even though it wasn't more than the equivalent of a few Tokyo city blocks, his back was already starting to ache, and it didn't seem possible that he would ever get there in time.

Still, he persisted, dragging his old, beat-up body up the streets of Italica until he was standing before the Manor. There, two Falmart Republic soldiers guarded the door. Not just any soldiers either; these were the elites that carried bolt-action rifles. As Komakado approached, he pulled out his ID and agency badge, but the guards seemed uninterested. "Sorry," one said in thickly accented Japanese. "No entry."

"I have urgent business with Minister Kouhara," Komakado said. "You _must_ let me through!"

The guards exchanged a look and, to Komakado's surprise, one pulled out a cellphone. The two squabbled in Imperial for a full minute, then another, with Komakado growing more antsy with every second that passed. "She's in danger!" he finally said. "Danger! Hurt! Pain! I must speak to her, _NOW!_ "

The soldier with the phone apparently won the argument, as he lifted it to his ear, waited, then looked down at the phone again. As he wriggled his finger across the screen, Komakado realized, _they gave these idiots phones, then never trained them to use them!_

Eventually, the other soldier lost patience and jumped at his partner, trying to grab the phone out of his hands. Komakado took this opportunity to dart past the pair, which seemed so distracted with their phone that they completely forgot about him.

When he finally arrived in the garden, he had just enough time to witness everything fall apart.

* * *

 **Formal Manor**

The BBC news feed was staticy, and for a moment the assembled politicians feared the worst. Had the plan failed? Had it unleashed an even bigger disaster?

They waited one second, two…

The image popped back into focus, and the anchor had the biggest grin on his face. "Reports are coming in now; the Gates have vanished!"

The men and women watching collectively cheered. Someone uncorked another bottle of champagne and passed around glasses, and there were back-slaps and handshakes all around.

Clayton held his glass without touching a drop of its contents, carefully looking around. The extra Gates on Earth weren't the only things that seemed to have vanished. Sherry was gone, and Kouhara was keeping a respectful distance away from the main group. "Amazing, don'tcha think?" Mahana said, shaking Clayton by the shoulder. "The nations of the world, working together for the common good, what more could you ask for, eh?"

Clayton nodded slowly but added no additional comment of his own. Mahana hadn't figured it out, and if the Secret Service agents with him had noticed the danger, then they hadn't reacted. Clayton wondered why that would be the case.

The celebration was interrupted by the sound of a ringing champagne glass, and everyone quieted down, looking for the speaker. Eventually everyone settled on Kouhara, who smiled over at the rest. Trying not to look too conspicuous as he did so, Clayton sighed and started to walk away.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Kouhara said. "We have much to celebrate today. I would like to thank you all for coming here, and for your cooperation in the space operation this past week. Our success in outer space shows the wonders that international cooperation can bring, and underscores the abilities of Earth's most powerful nations on the world stage."

This was met with approving nods by most of the people in attendance.

"However, it would be inappropriate to celebrate this moment without also taking time to acknowledge the role of our respective armed forces in defending the general populace from the attacks of a self-styled tyrant, and in providing a shield while our means of victory rose into the heavens. Truly inspiring, wouldn't you agree?"

More nods, and a few cheers from the Russian and American parties.

"And that is why, between these events and the Gate, Japan feels that it has demonstrated its obligation to the international community in terms of maintaining a military properly in line with the United Nations Charter, Article 2. Therefore, it is for this reason and others that we wish to take this opportunity to ask you to terminate the treaties restricting the size and capabilities of Japan's military."

This, of course, was met with dead silence. Even from the growing distance, Clayton glanced back at the Chinese Prime Minister, who looked as if Kouhara had just personally pissed in his champagne glass. "Wait, what?" Mahana said.

"We wish to take this opportunity-"

"I got that part, but I'm sorry, Mrs. Kouhara. This is neither the time nor the place."

"Mr. President, this is the place, and we will make the time."

Clayton had been waiting for this part. On cue, hundreds of JSDF soldiers started to march into the garden. The Secret Service and other defense groups reached into their jackets and suitcases, but they were clearly surrounded and outnumbered. Among the soldiers, he saw Itami Youji take up a position behind Kouhara's podium. By this point, Clayton was away from the main crowd, and edging around the side of a large hedge, but he could still hear the commotion going on at the meeting. Now that Kouhara had made her move, Clayton sent a simple text message and waited.

"Is this a threat?" he heard Zyuganov yell, "Are you threatening us?"

"As I have said before, we are a defensive country, and this is a defensive measure. Japan cannot continue to operate as a sovereign country in the 21st century unless it is permitted to commit to force parity with its neighbors. Without it, my constituents will remain trapped at the nexus of the US-China-Russia power struggle forever, and that is not acceptable. I would much rather see Japanese military agency accepted on polite terms here, than in the middle of whatever future confrontation is coming-and it is coming, even if you all wish to deny it."

"You're nuts!" Mahana said. "It doesn't work that way. Just because you gathered us all in one place doesn't mean that we could just approve something like that, even if we wanted to! I'd need to run it through Congress first, otherwise I'd be in contempt of not just federal law, but the damn Constitution too! Same goes for almost everyone else here."

"Then you will be held here until your respective governments can send their approval, which will have your endorsements, of course. In the meantime, Sherry has agreed to assist me with seeing that you are all richly attended to. She has a reputation for getting along well with politicians; isn't that right, Ambassador Clayton?"

Clayton said nothing, but waited, glancing at his watch, then over his shoulder. _Come on,_ he thought, _what's taking so long?_

"Where the hell did that man go? You there, go find him. He can't have gone far; I saw him just a few minutes ago."

"Took you long enough," he muttered. Clayton took off his jacket and hanged it over his shoulder, as if he was just coming back from some beach event or tropical golf course. What was going to happen next would benefit from a little bit of dramatic flair, and he regretted that the plant to his right was a hedge instead of a solid tree, otherwise he would have leaned on it to complete the picture of a man out for a casual walk.

A squad lead by Warrant Officer Tomita, was there in seconds. Clayton noted with some interest that none of them actually had weapons drawn. _Going for passive-agressive, then?_

"I'm sorry, sir," Tomita said. "You'll need to come with us."

Clayton shrugged. "I'm an ambassador, not a head of state. My presence would only serve to give the President someone else to order around for coffee and snacks, and I would rather avoid that kind of working relationship with Mahana, given the option."

"Nonetheless, we need you to go."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then we will need to drag you."

Clayton sighed. "Then you ought to do it quickly, otherwise you're going to get stopped."

"Stopped?" Tomita asked. "By you?"

"No," Clayton said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "Them."

Behind Clayton the air seemed to shimmer, then warp, twist, and bend in on itself before taking on the same ominous tunnel-like look that Tomita had seen time and time again on the news that past week.

But it was not dragons or giant salamanders or massive insects that came out of this Gate. No, what appeared next out of the gloom was far more terrifying.

Slim nose, dull tan, thick treads, and generally recognizable from plenty of films and videogames and news clips.

"There," Clayton said as the M1A3 Main Battle Tank emerged from the Gate, clearly the first in a small column of vehicles—an M2 Bradley followed close behind it. "If Kouhara wishes to have a discussion about treaties, _now_ we are ready to have one."

* * *

 **Formal Manor, Falmart Republic**

The Honor Guard was not worth identifying by name, as his function was not to be important himself, but to be a shield to the heads of state. This function had changed only slightly in the past few years; where before, his duty would have been to the Emperor and Senate, now it was to the Parliament and the Prime Minister of the Falmart Republic. The Emperor (or Empress, in the current situation) was to be defended by a ceremonial guard, wearing traditional armor with traditional swords and spears (and eventually concealed weapons), whereas the honor guards like himself would be armed with modern, functional equipment.

This included the Howa Type 64, configured with a 2.2x scope for Designated Marksman purposes, and a dozen rounds of ammunition. Not that he would need it all. His orders, if he were to succeed, would only require one shot.

As he settled in on the manor roof, it appeared that the situation was occurring precisely as Minister Sherry had predicted. Kouhara had deployed the Men in Green into the courtyard, and the American ambassador had responded by deploying the machines of the Men in Tan. Even now, the two major groups were converging on the other Earth heads of state, and the tension was through the roof.

His instructions were to watch and wait. If the JSDF started things by accident, that would be fine. If one of the Earth guards in their flimsy cloth suits pulled out weapons and began to shoot, that would be fine. If an American vehicle backfired and convinced anyone else that the fighting had begun, that would be fine too.

And if none of these things happened, he was to light the fire himself.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

It may interest you to know that I have completed drafting and editing of all of the remaining chapters. My current plan is to release this chapter on Monday night, the subsequent chapter at some point in the middle of the week, and the remaining three chapters next weekend.

Thank you for your continued interest, I look forward to sharing them with all of you!


	16. Chapter 15 - Final Approach

**Sea of Storms, The Moon**

"I can't believe it," Hector said, "They actually ditched us."

The magicians had gathered at the LER trailer and its equipment. Nearby, the tracks from the LER went on for about forty feet, then seemed to end suddenly, denoting the point where the Gate had been placed.

"The suits should have at least six or seven hours of air remaining," Lelei said. "We have not been out here that long. Perhaps they wished to close the Gate during the spell to prevent interference."

"Or," Ayaka spat, "Perhaps they decided they needed it for something else."

The others turned to look at her. "What do you mean?" Lelei asked.

"If the Americans knew that the space plan was going to work, why bother with the moon? Why show us anything classified at all? Their plan was to strand us here from the start."

She could see Lelei's eyes narrow within her helmet. "But the moon is supposed to be a powerful source of magic—"

" _Your_ moon is powerful source of magic. _My_ moon is a dead rock that no one cared about until rockets became cheap enough to consider mining it… and even then the return on investment is supposedly pitiful." She sighed. "Your world and moon have magic because they were protected by solar radiation early on, right?"

"Correct," Lelei said.

"Well, our moon has been baked by solar radiation for the past billion years. There's nothing magical up here except the view."

The other magicians exchanged bewildered looks. "Why didn't you mention that earlier?" Hector asked.

"Because I wasn't _thinking_ about it earlier!"

For a moment, no one spoke, so Lelei stated, "Our first priority is to get back in contact with Earth. We are permitted to call on an open channel in the event that the connection back through the Gate failed. The connection has failed as the Gate is no longer here. Elruk, do you recall how to do it?"

One of the other mages hopped back onto the trailer and began fiddling with controls on the transmitter before saying, "The switches are in the right position. Hello, hello! Can anyone hear us?"

For the first few seconds they heard nothing but static, then, "Hello? Hello, who is this?"

They recognized the voice immediately. "Ellie!" Hector shouted. "Damn it, girl! It's us! We have a—"

"Hector!" Ellie called back, excited. "We won! I'm so happy to...oh, right! Time lag. What do you have? How's the moon?"

"Dusty, grey, and empty," Hector said, approaching and holding on to the trailer for support. "More importantly, Gate-less. The Americans left. We have no way to get home."

They waited again while Ellie processed this information in some big spaceship somewhere over their heads. After a while, she replied, "Can't Ms. Lalena open one?"

The magicians all looked back at Lelei who said, "Doubtful."

"No, wait, Ellie's right," Hector said. "We were told years ago that you helped the Japanese and Americans transport ships from Tokyo Bay to the Avion Sea. You _can_ create Gates. Why can't you just make a Gate and take us back to Earth or Falmart?"

But Lelei shook her head. "There are two major problems. I need to build familiarity with an area's Viither, and there is the problem of the air."

"Viither?" Ayaka asked.

"Unlike Ether, Kether, and Sether, which operate in the dimensions of space, Viither is tied to time and possibility. It is possible for me to build a Gate without knowing that information, but the world that it connects to could be entirely different. What if it was a world where the Americans never participated in the Gate invasion with the JSDF, or a world where the Americans _led_ the Gate invasion? What if it was a world where the Gate was placed a hundred years earlier or later or in a different country? What if it was a world where the Gate never opened at all? I explained to Kouhara a few days ago that the reason why so many monsters were used in the recent attack on Earth was because they were being sourced in from alternate versions of the Special Region; not just the one that the Gate at Ginza connected to.

"The way to avoid this is to form familiarity with the Viither at the destination before trying to place a Gate there. I was taken to the spot in Tokyo Bay on a barge and told to form familiarity."

"Is there anywhere in Falmart that you're especially familiar with?" Ellie asked.

Lelei thought about it. "There are… one or two places, but there is another problem. A Gate from sea level on one world to sea level on another does not cause problems with the air. If we were to open a Gate from the moon to Earth or the Special Region, not only would massive quantities of air vent through the new Gate, much of the water in that air would freeze into a jet of tiny, fast moving ice shards that could cut through our suits and kill us before we have a chance to pass through. Additionally, the creation of a sudden low pressure point of such force would cause a massive storm on the far end, and bring catastrophe to anyone living there."

"So? Use magic to hold the air back while you make the Gate and you're fine!"

"Magic doesn't work that way," Hector said. "You can't do two forms of magic at the same time."

"So have someone else hold back the air!"

The magicians looked at each other again and Lelei said, "Elruk, a moment, please."

Ellie began to protest, but with a flick of a switch, her voice went silent. "Why did you do that?" Ayaka asked.

Lelei ignored her and turned to the other magicians. "I can't ask—"

"No need," Hector said. "I volunteer."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite."

"Thank you," Lelei turned back to Ayaka and said. "I am going to need your help. The Gate will be very small, and I will need you to haul me through it at the end. If you fail, I will be cut in half. We must do this as quickly as possible. Do you understand that you cannot fail in this task?"

"Yes, but what about—"

"Everyone else, near me, please," Lelei said.

Hector went and braced himself against the LER trailer, while the other magicians and Ayaka gathered near Lelei. "I'll be ready as soon as you open the Gate," Hector said. "Go, and if you run into that American ambassador, tell him to pull his head out of his ass and do better!"

Lelei raised her gloved hands, a faraway look in her eyes, and with little consideration for the fact that the other magicians were bunched up directly in front of her. Around them, Ayaka saw the air seem to ripple and bend, just as it had on the American device, until finally there was a bright flash of light. For a second Ayaka wondered if something had gone wrong with the Gate, but then she realized that she was looking at a magical barrier that had been raised between them and what looked like the top of a stone structure. "Now!" one of the magicians shouted, and they jumped through the Gate. Behind them, Ayaka grabbed Lelei around the waist and threw herself backwards after them.

There was a second of brief disorientation, then she fell to the ground with a heavy _thud_. Over Lelei's shoulder, she thought she could see the late afternoon, early twilight sky.

She could see another flash, and the Gate was gone.

"I just realized," Lelei said. "We have another problem."

"What?"

"We are wearing 140 kilogram space suits," Lelei said. "Can you move?"

Ayaka tried, with no luck. More effort served to just barely raise her arms, but the bulk suit would not budge.

Despite the fact that there was now an atmosphere around them, if they were not found in the next few hours, they would suffocate inside the space suits.

But there was another problem. "Lelei?" Ayaka said.

"Yes?"

"What happened to Hector?"

* * *

 **Departing Italica**

Sherry disliked the bumpy road between Italica and Sadera, and while she had often given thought to acquiring her own MagThree or helicopter, she had always been stopped by the simple fact that, if she were to travel that way, she would be functionally defenseless. It would be an incredibly simple manner for an American or Japanese aircraft to shoot her out of the sky, and difficult to hide it on the ground. The 4x4 was not the most glamorous vehicle, but it offered safely and mobility, and the ability to travel with a larger force if she needed it. If she was truly running from either nation, she would take a horse or go on foot.

She did not consider either nation as enemies. Far from it; both were very useful to maintaining her position of power, and for bolstering the economic prosperity of the Falmart had saved her in her younger years as she learned the nature of gaining and maintaining power. She even wrote Sugawara postcards on occasion. Unfortunately, regardless of how positive a relationship she had with them, the fact of the matter still stood: Falmart, the entire former Empire, would never be able to escape the shadow of the two Earth nations. Perhaps in time and with enough investment Falmart would start to resemble a developing Earth nation like Kenya, but as long as America and Japan maintained military dominance, her ability to decide the fate of Sadera would be forever hindered by the opinions of parties in Tokyo and Washington. To her, it was Zorzal and his Oprichina all over again; they could purge her the moment she did something they disliked.

So how could she get out of that arrangement?

The simplest answer would have been to close the Gate, and seize whatever factories and equipment had been built in the Special Region; but that failed to eliminate the American and Japanese presence in Falmart, and it did not take into account Clayton's presumed Gate weapon. The only alternative, therefore, was to provide both parties with a situation so pressing back on Earth that they could not commit forces to Falmart while she put her countrymen back into a position of power.

An opportunity had appeared about a week or so earlier, when Kouhara had unknowingly suggested that she had never been told about the American Gate. Sherry wasn't precisely sure what had caused this oversight, or if Kouhara had simply dismissed any information from Kengun and the prior Prime Minister as baseless rumors. She could understand both possibilities; Kouhara was that intelligent kind of slime that bubbles up to the top of most political parties in history, but that intelligence rarely extended beyond the scope of party and office drama. Either way, Kouhara had presented the idea of pressuring heads of state in the Special Region into revising existing Earth treaties; which in Sherry's opinion was pure lunacy, but it fit neatly into her plans. Now it was merely a matter of time before one of the people in the courtyard did something stupid. Of course, if by some miracle, none of them managed to shoot at each other, she had ordered a sniper to start things for her by assassinating the Chinese President. She didn't think she'd need it, though. The Earth countries were out of room to expand, and she knew that each country had factions itching for a fight.

The resulting major war would draw both America and Japan out of the Special Region, divert the full focus of Clayton's Gate, and Falmart as a whole would be insulated from whatever happened on Earth. If they did lose the connection to Tokyo… that would be unfortunate, but a passable outcome. Falmart had more than enough Earth records and technology to peruse for the foreseeable future.

Sherry looked out the window of the 4x4 at the passing landscape, wondering how she would know that the battle had started. Would there be tracer fire? Explosions? Would the Americans perhaps go so far as to use another Godwrecker?

She didn't care. As long as these last threats to her person and her prosperity could be removed, she would be happy.

* * *

 **High Earth Orbit**

"Hello? Hector? Ms. Lalena? Can any of you hear me?" Ellie said, pressing the wire headset to the side of her head. The SpaceX pilot was the only other person waiting with her on the Starship's bridge, and she was vaguely aware of the forms of the other five magicians of "Red Team" waiting by the entry to the common area.

None of them had been told about the mission to the moon. As the only other insider, Ellie had been given the additional responsibility of being a backup communication link to Lelei and Hector in the event that they could not communicate with the ground for some reason. She had kept the ship's Ku-band radio tuned to the other team's transmitter channel, but had not expected to need it during the flight. Therefore, her crewmates had become concerned when she threw herself at the radio console as soon as she heard voices on the line; doubly so once they began to pick up pieces as to what had happened.

She didn't care. She just wanted them to keep talking with her.

"Please," she said, "Anyone on this frequency, say _something!_ "

"Yes, yes!" a familiar voice growled, "You can quit your screeching now, girl!"

Ellie sighed in relief. If Hector was complaining, surely everything would be alright. "Sorry. Did you decide what to do?"

"Already done," Hector said. "Lelei and the others are back in the Falmart Republic."

Ellie's smile faded. "How am I talking to you in Falmart?"

"I'm not there. I'm still on the moon."

'What!? Why?"

"Because someone had to hold back the force of Falmart's air while Lelei had the Gate open."

A glimmer of what happened appeared in Ellie's head, but she shook her head to force the thought away. "But… that's silly," she said. "Couldn't you have gone through first?"

"Had to brace myself against something. The air of an entire planet is a lot of force."

"Why didn't someone start doing the same thing once they got back to the other side?"

"They fell over in a big pile, and can't turn back the other way to concentrate on the Gate."

"Then Lelei will just make a Gate back to the moon and someone else will hold the air."

"She needs to build magical affinity with a location before she can open a Gate to there. Lelei was barely here for an hour. They're not coming back to get me."

 _He's not—_ Ellie shook the idea from her head again. "No... _no._ The American Gate! I'll tell them to—"

"It was their choice to close it."

"Then I'll get you myself! The SpaceX ship is designed to get all the way to the moon—"

"In five hours?"

"I'M TRYING TO SAVE YOUR LIFE!" There, the words were out. Ellie hadn't felt this much panic since the time Hector had fainted during their suborbital flight. There, at least, she had something to keep her occupied. There, she still had a mission to fulfill. Something still had to be done. There had to be something she'd missed.

"Ellie," Hector said. "It doesn't matter. The Earth doctors said I had eight weeks to live."

She felt her gut clench, a deeply uncomfortable feeling in zero gravity, and all the natural accommodations her Monarch background gave her did nothing to prevent the wave of nausea that hit her. She knew that Hector had been to the hospitals in Alnus and Italica a handful of times before, but had said nothing about the details. "T-that m-makes no s-sense," Ellie said.

"It turns out that Godwrecker weapons do more than burn you and throw you around. I have… I think the Falmart medical term is _eklaron_? The Earth people call it Cancer. Anyway, it doesn't make much sense to risk someone else's life when—"

"So you kept that to yourself!?" Ellie shouted into the headset. "Why didn't you tell me!? I would've come back to Falmart! I would have tried to get on the moon mission! I would have spent more time with you!"

She got no immediate response for that. Ellie wished she could have seen his face, known how he was reacting or responding, but there was nothing to see, and no one to hold.

Eventually he said, "Sorry, I was going to tell you later."

"You should have told me immediately."

"I can't do anything about that now."

"Y-yes, you can!" Ellie said. "You _promise_ me t-that you're going to stay on the radio! Y-you _promise_ me that you aren't going-g to do the _stupid_ -brave soldier thing and turn me a-away again!"

She waited a moment longer before she got the reply; a sigh, followed by, "If you insist, _girl._ "

Ellies cheeks remained dry the entire time. Tears do not fall in microgravity.

* * *

 **Groom Lake AFB, "Area 51" United States.**

Carol, watched, horrified, as the last of the dozen armored vehicles passed through the Gate and the machine shut down. "What did you do?" She asked.

"Everything I was ordered to do," Mullan said. "We have just moved armor support into the Special Region to prevent hostile action by the JSDF. We have also taken the strongest magicians out of the Special Region and placed them in a location where they cannot interfere."

Carol thought about it a moment, then realized what he meant. "The moon… the trick with magic only works on the Special Region's moon because there are SR-Phizons there. The whole Phizon detection mission we were doing with JAXA was completely pointless because you already knew… there are no SR-Phizons on Earth's Moon!"

"That's absolutley correct," Mullan said. "The majority of Phizons were blasted away by solar radiation early in the Moon's evolution. Kuragin's book on space weather may be correct in thinking that some might exist in shadowed craters at the poles, but the Sea of Storms is an equatorial region. There are no Phizons there, and no way for the magicians to get back. Lelei, the one person the Japanese have who creates Gates, took months to learn how to find Tokyo Bay from Falmart; far longer than the EVA suit's eight-hour oxygen supply. If the operation in the Special Region succeeds quickly, we'll send the LER back to the moon to go get them."

"But this is crazy! Japan is one of our strongest allies, and—"

Mullan held up a hand. "Defense Secretary Barton has, on good confidence, been given information that Japanese Prime Minister Kouhara might try to use the fact that the world's militaries are occupied and the international heads of state are in the Special Region to force treaty deals. A few minutes ago, we received confirmation from our source on the ground that the attempted coup was underway, and we went in."

"That's ridiculous! Even if Japan were to try to do something like that, the world won't stand for it! They'll level the whole country!"

"Correct. We suspect that this is a bluff. We just called it with an armored column."

"A bluff, where, if _anything_ goes wrong, the country is destroyed?"

Mullan frowned. "It's an incredibly shaky situation, which is why I asked for you in particular. Any shots fired in the Special Region would be catastrophic. I need you to find a way to turn the whole situation off. _Now._ "

Now Carol was even more confused. "I don't—"

"Look, this whole thing is stupid, I think it's stupid, Clayton thinks it's stupid—"

" _What did you just say?_ "

Mullan winced, realizing that he'd just let his source slip. "It's not important—"

"You said this was Robert Clayton's idea." Carol said. After all they'd done, all they had endured, and here they were, with Clayton hauling them around by the throat again. And even after promising them at the Gala… she looked over at Greta, who had a slow, sad smile forming on her face. Clearly, she had come to the same conclusion.

"You know what?" Carol said. "This isn't my job. This isn't my job, this isn't Greta's job, and Clayton isn't in any position to demand things from us after we hauled his ass out of the fire, _twice_." She folded her arms and concluded, "You're the military. You want to stop this powder keg from exploding? Pull out, come home. I've had enough of being Clayton's stooge."

"I can't do that."

"Open up the Gate, and call them back!"

"We're on the clock—"

"And I don't give a damn!"

"Lives are at stake!"

"You should have thought about that first!" Carol turned on her heel and said, "I'm going back to the barracks."

She heard a clicking noise and didn't need to turn around to know what it was. "I'm only going to say this once," Mullan said, "I need your—"

And he got no further than that. She heard a scream and she turned back around to see the last thing he hoped to see.

Greta had darted at the distracted General and grabbed him by the gun arm and throat. Visually it made no sense, the five-foot-five, lithe Greta pinning the six-two, clearly heavier military officer in a painful lock, her own eyes wild and alarmed. Carol had heard that demihumans were inherently stronger than normal humans, but this was a side of her old friend that she had never seen before. Scarier still, the sad smile was still there.

The room might as well have exploded. Airmen at the control panels and the doors drew their sidearms as well, all shouting over each other to release their commanding officer—not that it mattered because none of them were speaking Japanese—but the point was all the same as Greta muttered, " _I won't let you take her, I won't, I won't, I won't—_ "

"Greta—"

"DROP HIM, RIGHT NOW!"

"I won't, I won't, I won't…"

"WE WILL SHOOT, LET GO RIGHT NOW"

"Greta!"

"YOU HAVE TO THE COUNT OF FIVE"

"I WON'T, I SWEAR! YOU CAN'T TAKE CAROL AWAY"

"Greta," Carol said, rushing up to her, her voice cutting through the din, "LET GO!"

But Greta was so wrapped up in the moment that it was like she didn't even hear her, "I LOVE YOU, I-!"

So Carol did the only thing she could; she slapped Greta upside the head as hard as she could.

The room went dead silent. Greta herself, stunned, dropped Mullan, who scrambled away, clutching a shoulder that looked dislocated. The other soldiers did not lower their weapons. As far as they were concerned, the demihuman before them was a wild animal.

Greta, wide eyed, was still frozen in shock. After a few seconds, she raised a hand to the side of her face. "You hit me." she said, bewildered.

Carol, for her part, was still processing the action. It hadn't been conscious or planned or deliberated. Greta had placed herself into such severe danger, that Carol had realized the one truth she had been trying to avoid.

"That's right," Carol said. "What you did was idiotic and selfish and I know that you're smarter than this, so it's more disappointing than anything else. I've tried everything else I could think of to get through to you without hurting you, but you're just not listening!"

The young woman took a terrified step back, and her voice cracked as she said "I w-want-ted to help—"

"Throwing your life away isn't helping!" Carol said and sighed. "Look, I get that Falmart promotes a culture of charging into a meat grinder in pursuit of a grand goal, but not here. That's not how it works on Earth. Yes, it means that things are slow and tedious—it took eight years from the last Space Shuttle flight to the first Crewed Dragon flight, but we did it without making any martyrs, and there is a successful space campaign going on above our heads right now as testament to that.

"But Clayton—"

"Your dying here wouldn't have proven anything against him. Besides... what happened to you... that's partially my fault too."

Greta's jaw dropped open, and she shook her head, disbelieving.

" _It is my fault,_ " Carol emphasized. "I was the one who came up with the idea of keeping you busy on that island with the spaceplane, not Clayton. Blame Clayton for this if you want, blame him for actually following through, but for the idea itself, _blame me._ "

The demihuman woman sank to her knees sobbing. Carol wanted to reach out to her still, to tell her that it was all going to be okay, that she didn't mean to hurt her, but it had to be done. At the end of the day, Greta's condition wasn't Clayton's fault, it was _hers._ A pair of Air Force MPs moved closer to cover Greta, and the sight made Carol want to cry herself. _Why did I lose my cool?_ she chasitzed herself. _Why didn't I just agree to help from the beginning?_

"Clayton didn't ask you to be here," Mullan said. The two women had mostly forgotten about him. The General was being looked to by a pair of medics and was clearly wincing through the pain. "I did."

Now Carol was even more confused. "But you said—"

"It was Clayton's idea to consult your working group in Japan about how to defeat an enemy god, his idea to place Lelei and her group on the moon, and his idea to push American forces through the Gate, but asking you to be _here_ , that was my idea. You want to kill people, call an infantryman. You want to solve a problem, call an enginee—gaaaah!"

They heard a sickening noise as his arm popped back into place. The General shook his head, trying to clear away the pain, and said, "I'll make a deal. You come up with a way to solve the situation in Falmart without anyone getting killed, and I'll drop the charges against Greta."

Carol sat down, placed her head in her hands, and tried to think.

Mullan was basically asking for her to pull an answer for world peace out of thin air. It was one thing to come up with a logical excuse to not drop atomic bombs on an invalid target, but quite another to step out in front of the most powerful nations on Earth and tell them not to shoot at each other. There was no argument she could make that thousands of statesmen and philosophers before her hadn't already made. There was nothing that hadn't been tried, or tools that hadn't been used…

She found herself looking out towards the Gate again. Did it really matter? Even if she succeeded, the danger wouldn't go away. With weaponized Gates, countries would be able to teleport bombs anywhere on Earth and conventional defenses would be rendered things of the past. A combat force could go anywhere they wanted…

 _Anywhere…_

The beginnings of a plan leaked into her head… no, plan wasn't the right word. It was more of a gamble, because it had never been tried before. It had never been tried before because the capability had never _existed_ before, and it was all reliant on a wild guess about human nature which had never really been tested before.

It was reliant on so many 'if's, 'but's and 'maybe's that it seemed sure to fail.

It was also the only chance they had.

"General," Carol said. "How _exactly_ does your Gate work?"

"That's classified."

"I know that, but I mean, let's say I wanted to have dinner at a particular restaurant in Paris. What would be involved in getting us there?"

Mullan thought about what he could and couldn't divulge, then, carefully, said, "We would need geospatial coordinates. Position, distance, and time. The more accurate, the better."

And, of course, the coordinates she was going to recommend weren't going to be accurate at all. Still, it was their best chance, no matter how small.

"I'm going to need a handful of your men, the LER…" Carol said, "And an emergency line to a Dr. Brighton at NASA-Goddard in Maryland."

"And what does he have that we don't?"

"The James Web Space Telescope."


	17. Chapter 16 - Landing

**Formal Manor, Italica**

"Impossible!" Kouhara gawked as she watched the line of vehicles emerging from the garden. There looked to be about a dozen in all; four tanks, eight infantry fighting vehicles, each piled with or guarded by American soldiers, all heavily armed and clearly expecting a battle. She had taken care to make the JSDF soldiers passive-aggressive, to not point their weapons at anyone, to not fire unless shot at, and it looked like the Americans had similar instructions. Still, the sheer number of vehicles and soldiers pouring into the courtyard relayed their message clearly enough: _Don't try anything. You'll lose_. Clayton followed alongside, coat over one shoulder, looking for all the world like he was there to go golfing, rather than lead a military intervention.

She had known going into this that it would be the end of her political career. Even when the Japanese goverment threw her out, any concessions she could gain would have been enough to put her on the speaking circuit, and keep her set for life. She didn't mean to start a war, of course, just to put some pressure on them, but now all of her plans were rapidly crashing down around her. Basically, the Americans had called her bluff. She had been depending on the Special Region being isolated to make her move, but it was now clear that the Special Region wasn't as isolated as she had believed.

Clayton stopped in front of her and, with an irritating grin, said, "I heard you were looking for me."

Whatever Kouhara had initially wanted to say to him had long since fled her mind. Instead she just said, "How?"

The ambassador shrugged. "Japan took so long to allow international access to the Gate that we got impatient and built our own. That was two years ago, and we have had plenty of time to experiment with the technology since then."

 _He's retaking the initiative,_ Kouhara realized. If a conflict started here, it was imperative that he give every head of state in attendance reason to think that they would lose. What had occurred here was a horrific preview of any future conflict; seconds after any nation declared war, they would have American tanks crashing through the wall of their seat of government. Now that she thought about it, the tanks were a formality-a large explosive dropped directly into the enemy leadership's basement would end a conflict before it could start.

"Now," Clayton said, "Let's start the _actual_ negotiations."

* * *

 **?, ?, Special Region  
**

"So what do we do now?" Ayaka asked, "Where even are we?"

They had been laying there, prone, for only a few minutes, but to Ayaka it felt like hours. She could feel the weight of Lelei's suit pressing down on her, and if wasn't for the rigidity of her own equipment, Ayaka wondered if she would have been crushed to death.

"We are in Italica," Lelei said. "Long ago, Kengun-back when he was a Colonel-and General Hazama were concerned that the Usurper Zorzal would launch one final massive decapitation attack on Italica to murder princess Pina. They asked me if I could make myself available to help defend. As part of assisting, I made myself familiar with the magical fields above the East Wall and East Portal. We should currently be somewhere on the ramparts."

"So we just need to wait for a guard to come by, right?"

"The rapid expansion of the city means that the original walls are no longer used. There is no patrol that will find us."

Ayaka wanted to slam her head against the side of her helmet, but the structure of the headset and large amount of space in the helmet made this impossible, so she gave an irritated sigh and allowed her head to fall back against the ground.

"May I ask a question?" Lelei said.

"Sure."

"Did you find your 'real' thing up there?"

She shook her head in response, then, realizing that Lelei couldn't see her, said, "It was pretty, but it was soured by what happened."

"And if it hadn't happened," Lelei said, "If the mission had gone entirely according to plan, would it have been different?"

Ayaka thought about it. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not."

"I see. Would you say, then, that because your opinion is involved, nothing inherently meets your definition of real?"

"That… doesn't make any sense."

"But that _is_ your theory."

"I don't know, I...maybe it's less that I wanted things that were real, and wanted fewer things that were fake. Fake smiles, fake promises, fake people, fake politicians, fake relationships…"

"... do you think that I am fake?"

"...sometimes."

"You are correct. Do you think I wish to be?"

"I don't know."

"Do you act fake sometimes?"

The conversation was giving Ayaka a headache, and their prone position wasn't helping. "Yes, I guess," she said.

"Do _you_ wish to be?"

There were times when faking other people was helpful, of course, but the truth was that she did not. She really, truly did not. She wanted to yell and scream and make other people hear her. "No," she said

"I agree," Lelei said simply.

"Then why does everyone do it!?" Ayaka said. "Can't we all just agree to be honest with each other?"

"Would you wish to force honesty on yourself?"

"No."

"It becomes more complicated when you can't decide what you want to be real and fake."

Ayaka had no good response. Yet, some part of Lelei's response stuck in her mind. She could feel it reaching out, trying to form a connection, but it just wasn't there.

What did it matter? She was going to die in a few hours anyway.

Then, as if nothing could be simpler, the idea struck her. "Lelei-sensei?" she said.

"Yes."

"I am going to burn down Italica."

She expected Lelei to protest, to tell her how stupid the idea was, or to complain about the safety of people nearby. Instead, in a very Lelei-like fashion, her response was one quick word. "Okay."

"I swear," Ayaka said. "I may be terrible at magic, but I can set things on fire and throw a tomato over tall buildings. Today, I'm going to make the biggest fire in the history of fires, and I don't want you to try and stop me."

"Ayaka," Lelei said, breaking for just a moment her usual impassivity. "Do it."

From there, Ayaka stuck out her right hand. She didn't know what direction she was facing, or if there were even any buildings in that direction or just more stone. It did not matter; she had made her decision.

In her mind, she reached out and pushed, and the jet of flame bounced off of something before rocketing high into the air. _Come on,_ she thought, _come on, someone has to notice this!_

But nothing happened, and she let her arm fall again. "Well," she said. "That's that."

For a moment, she suspected that Lelei had gone silent again, but the closer she listened, the more it sounded like the older mage was making some kind of noise. "Ayaka, may I ask another question?" she said.

"Yeah?"

"What, precisely, do they mean when they say _We can try to understand / The New York Times' effect on man_?"

Ayaka couldn't help but snort at that. _Stayin' Alive_ indeed. "I don't know. American songs make no sense to me. Who knows if it was even designed to make sense. Why?"

"Curiosity. Some Earth songs and Falmart prayers have the same poetic meter, and-"

She had no time to finish, for she was suddenly hauled away, heavy spacesuit and all. Ayaka barely had time to register what was going on before her view was blocked by a young face with an enormous grin.

Somehow, the first person to find them was Rory Mercury.

Ayaka lay there, stunned. _She will return_ , Lelei had said in Sadera, but _now_? She shouted up at the Apostle, but realized that she had no clear idea how to disassemble the suit. The men from NASA and the US Air Force had always done it for her.

Seeming to understand the problem, Rory reached over, hooked her slim, childlike fingers along the front of the spacesuit and tugged.

Forty pounds of armored anti-meteorite ballistic weave tore away like it was tissue paper. "Awww," the Apostle said. "My first Earth suit of armor holds a schoolgirl. How dull. I was hoping for a warrior."

"I..." Ayaka tried, but couldn't find the words, so she settled on, "What are you even doing here?"

Rory offered a toothy smile, reached down, and tore open Lelei's spacesuit the same way. "I saw your fire, of course, but if you're wondering why I'm here... for the battle, of course! In the lead up to battle, Emroy calls to me. How could I say no?"

"Battle?" Lelei asked. Her voice made her seem more startled than Ayaka had ever heard her before. "Is it true then? The Americans left us on the moon because they mean to attack?"

" _Everyone_ means to attack," Rory said gleefully. "We stand on the precipice; the greatest battle of wills of your lifetime. Any misstep will end not one world, but two! What will you do?"

* * *

 **Formal Manor, Italica**

Komakado was surprised at how little observation or resistance there was over the manor itself. He had been expecting more guards, but it seemed like the majority of them had been moved to the outer perimeter to keep people in, than to keep people from running through the grounds.

He was looking for someone with a Howa Type 64, one of about a dozen that Sherry had secured for herself, along with ammunition and a handful of attachments. He was expecting his target to be on the roof somewhere, and at this point he was praying that Sherry had only sent one rifle instead of all twelve.

That was why he was shocked to run into Takagi on the second floor. "What are you doing here!?" She said, drawing her sidearm.

"Me? What about you?" Komakado said. "Actually, never mind, I need you to help me, there's a plot-"

"Yes, that is Kouhara's idea."

"What? No, I'm talking about Sherry."

Takagi raised an eyebrow. "Sherry?"

"She's trying to start a war."

"Komakado-san, I can assure you that General Kengun has everything under control-"

"Really?" Komakado said. "Is he ready for a war with China?"

She gave him a quizzical look. "China?"

"Yes! Their damn President is sitting in the courtyard where lots of people are pointing guns at each other. If any of Sherry's men decide to fire, it wouldn't matter if they hit him or not; there's enough tension and confusion to start _someone_ shooting, and if a single head of state gets hit, we're going to be in for a world of pain."

"It won't come to that. Kengun said-"

"Takagi-chan," Komakado said, his voice low, "you're young enough that your parents weren't around during the last war, Mine were. A war on that scale is not the kind of thing you endure; it's the kind of thing you survive-if you do. I guarantee you here and now that if a shooting war starts today that includes China, Russia, or the United States, Japan will be leveled. Not damaged, not destroyed, _leveled_. All the way back into the sea."

He took a step towards her and added, "I'm not trying to stop the Prime Minister or Kengun, whatever his plan is. That's out of my hands. I need you to help me ensure that Sherry and Falmart do not intervene."

Takagi tilted her head, considered, and placed her sidearm back in its holster. "Be quick," she said.

* * *

 **Courtyard outside Formal Manor, Italica**

"Wait, wait, hang on!" Mahana said, raising his hands. "Clayton, what the fuck is all of this? You're in the State Department."

"The provisions created under the Dirrel Administration allow the appointed ambassador to act as commander-in-chief of military forces deployed to the Special Region, including those attached to ADMIT FUSCHIA, in the event that a connection to STRATCOM is lost, or the United States Government is disabled by a decapitation strike. The executive order was intended for use against the Gods or in the event of nuclear war on Earth, but I figure that a power play by another head of state that is directed at the sitting President is also a fair reason to apply this particular privilege."

Clayton's smile grew slightly larger as he added, "Though I may as well point out, Mr. President, that you're in an excellent position to make demands of your own, if you wish to do so."

"I think," the Chinese President said, "That I would very much like to leave now. Our part in the space operation is over, and I shall be returning to Beijing to file a complaint with the United Nations over my treatment here today."

As he and his entourage turned to leave, Clayton said, "Minister Kouhara, aren't Falmart soldiers guarding the walls? Were they told to let anyone pass back out through the gates? Come to think of it, do they happen to speak English or Chinese?"

The point was obvious enough; the guards would not care who the President of China was, nor would they likely understand what China itself was, and what it would mean to cause an international incident with them. They weren't going anywhere. With a clear look of irritation on his face, President Liao turned back to face Mahana and said, "this is your fault. I will be holding you and your administration personally responsible for this."

"Mr. Liao," Mahana started, stepping towards the Chinese diplomat, but the CSB agents surrounding him pulled out Type 05 submachine guns, causing the Secret Service around Mahana to draw SIG Sauers and FN P90s and push the American President back behind them.

Clayton looked over at Itami Youji, who had not left the Prime Minister's side. At this point, he didn't look so much concerned as bored, like he was waiting for the conflicting parties to make up their minds and get the whole thing over with.

Or was he part of a secret plan of some sort?

He looked back over at Kouhara, who seemed to be far more nervous than she had been at the start. No, if she had a solid backup plan, she would have been calm like Itami. Perhaps Itami's plan was separate from Kouhara's. What was his ace in the hole? Clayton knew that Itami had been there at Hakone during Rory's slaughter, so maybe-

The ambassador glanced over his shoulder. Rory wasn't there. He looked around everywhere and couldn't see her, but then, she had a tendency of being hard to spot when she didn't want to be found, and getting up in your face when she did. That had to be it; Itami had Rory tucked away somewhere… but then why not tell Kouhara about that? Why not make his countrymen aware of their advantage?

What he did know was that a failure to act immediately would give Rory ample time to destroy the Earth forces. The battle at Alnus against Giselle and Hardy demonstrated that it was possible to get lucky and pin an Apostle, but they would need to move quickly and lead with superior firepower. They would need to-

His train of thought was interrupted by a voice shouting, "Wait!"

Several heads turned to catch the source of the voice, and Clayton was shocked to see a familiar face running for them with a large, transparent canister.

It was Dr. Carol Dawon.

The aerospace engineer ignored him, shocking Mahana as well by bypassing him and going straight to Russian President Zyuganov. "Here," she said, shoving the canister at him, "It's a gift."

A pair of Russian security officers grabbed it on Zyuganov's behalf, and the older man leaned forward to examine the contents through the transparent shell.

The object inside was hard to describe. It was thick and long and pointy, like finger bones or sharpened bamboo, but it was a deep red with electric blue pustules. If you watched carefully enough, the object seemed to pulse and wiggle slightly. Gradually, enough other people got curious that the Russian official looked up at Carol and said, 'What is it?"

Carol shrugged. "No idea."

"But it's clearly something! Is this a plant or animal, or-"

"No idea. None. I genuinely have no clue what the hell the thing in the tank is," Carol said. The tone of her voice sounded exhausted, and she looked tired, but happy. "I mean, maybe it's one of those things. Or both, or neither. We'd need time to study it more, but I was in a rush."

"Where on Earth did you get it?" the British Prime Minister asked, approaching the container as well. He reached out a hand to tap on the glass, but Zyuganov knocked his hand away, shouting. "You don't know where that thing has been!"

"I didn't get it from anywhere on Earth," Carol said, collapsing into one of the vacated pavilion seats. "That's from TRAPPIST-1d… about forty light years away. That's an exoplanet orbiting a red dwarf star that supposedly has a habitable band- _does_ have a habitable band-that sits on the day-night terminator. The JWST turned out to be _just barely_ powerful enough to resolve the spatial coordinates. Anyway, we sterilized the container so it should be safe to handle-"

"But that's an _alien_ ," the German Chancellor pointed out. "A real space alien."

"That's right."

For a moment, no one said anything. It was strange to see all of these people, soldiers, guards and politicians from over a dozen different countries, all craning their necks to get a look at the new thing in front of them. Even Countess Myui, who had been caught in the scramble, approached for a closer look. Regardless, for a few seconds there were no nationalities, no plots or plans or cultural expectations, just a bunch of humans trying to make sense of a new thing.

And then, the whispered commentary started up.

"What do you think the blue things are?"

"Dunno, eyes? Spots?"

"Look at how it bends. Worms don't bend like that."

"Do you think it knows we're here?"

"Do you see a mouth? What do you think it eats?"

"I wonder what it would taste like if we barbecued it."

"Dude, you would actually try to eat something like that!?"

"I wonder if more things over there look like this."

"We're getting off topic!" Clayton shouted over everyone else. "Kouhara, call off your men or else-"

"That's not important!" Carol shouted in response. "What is important is that we now have the technology to go _wherever_ we want. There are billions of exoplanet candidates out there. Some have resources. Some have life like TRAPPIST-1d. The time for thinking about giant rockets and lightspeed and space-arks is passed. With the Gate, we can finally go exploring, and we can get economic and scientific results _immediately._ Look how much knowledge and wealth came from the Special Region, and that's just _one_ planet." She pointed to Mahana and said, "What do you say to that?"

Mahana appeared to think, then looked up at Clayton. "You said that this is ADMIT FUSCHIA, a military project, right?"

Clayton nodded.

"Then I'm sorry, Dr. Dawson, the defense ramifications-'

"You want defense ramifications?" Carol said. "America figured out Gate technology in seven years, and this lets us travel to any exoplanet we can see. If there are other advanced civilizations in our galaxy, or, as this planet demonstrates, other galaxies, what's stopping them from independently developing the same technology? We've wondered for years if intelligent extraterrestrials were out there, just not emitting noticeable radio signals… but if they have also mastered Gate technology, they wouldn't need long-distance radio communication, would they? They could just run cables through Gates like we did from Tokyo to Alnus. It's only a matter of time before they find us, and when they do… well, everyone here should have figured out the military utility of Gates by this point. A conventional war with any other Earth country would be a joke in comparison."

"That doesn't solve our present dilemma," Kouhara argued.

"Simple, put your guns down and go home." Carol said.

"It's not that simple."

"I think it is." She looked at Itami and said, "Because, after all, the only thing between us and war is _a thousand stupid little things_ , right?"

For a moment, the Japanese man remained impassive, and Clayton thanked the heavens that there was at least one dutiful soldier in the courtyard that day, but his appreciation turned to despair as the Japanese contractor looked down at his rifle, shouldered it and said, "Okay."

"Okay!?" Kouhara exploded at him, "Your job is-"

"In support of my hobbies," Itami said, simply, "And there's no point if I help start a war that blows up Tokyo. How would they host Comiket?"

" _I don't give a fuck about Comiket, follow your orders!_ "

"Who said I wasn't?" Itami said with a shrug. "General Kengun's orders, actually." He looked at the assembled soldiers and asked, "Am I right, or am I right?"

One of the JSDF soldiers, an officer, keyed his comms system and listened for a moment before saying, "Yes, understood. Ma'am, Kengun- _rikushoho_ has called a tactical retreat."

Kouhara looked like she was going to explode. " _What!?_ "

"He says that your battle cannot be won from this position, and has called JSDF forces to fall back to Japanese territory. He also wishes me to relay that he will take all responsibility if his orders are challenged, and is looking forward to your explanation to the Diet regarding today's events."

"But-"

"This was the plan from the start," Itami said. "Kengun and Former Prime Minister Hideaki did not tell you about the American Gate because we were hoping you'd try something stupid like this. We forced America's hand, the world now knows about their Gate device, and we can all go home without firing a shot. Things got hotter than I'd hoped, so we're take you into protective custody and escort you to Alnus until the situation has stabilized."

"The situation is stable!" Kouhara shouted. "I am in control! Tell Kengun that if he dares to defy me, I'll do the same to him as I did to Hazama!"

"I don't think he cares," Itami said.

He gave a deep bow to the other diplomats, said in thickly accented English, "Sorry for the trouble," turned back to Kouhara and gestured for her to leave.

It looked like the Japanese Prime minister wanted to argue things further, and she seethed under the gaze of her own forces, but she ultimately relented and turned to leave with her countrymen.

It was the signal the sniper was waiting for.

* * *

 **Rooftop of Formal Manor**

In one sense, the Honor Guard sniper had hoped that the Earth people would start fighting of their own accord. It would have made his job easier, and given him a chance to go home. Instead, he would be forced to begin the war himself.

The man Sherry had tasked him to shoot looked similar in face and stature to the Japanese, but was apparently from a different country altogether. He had a number of guards of his own along with him, but they were all distracted by the Americans.

In theory, it would be equally effective if he were to miss. The sound of the gunshot alone might accomplish everything he needed, but it was far better to kill the man than to risk failure.

He watched through the Type 64's scope as Kouhara lost her patience and turned to leave, just as the JSDF were about to do the same. That was his signal! He re-centered his sights on the Chinese President. He had been chosen for the task as one of the few that had been able to consistently hit targets with the new cartridge-based prototype rifles being churned out of Sadera. The Japanese rifle felt more comfortable in his hands, and the addition of the telescopic sights made the whole thing feel easy to him.

He heard a loud noise from somewhere behind him, but did not care enough to investigate. Instead, the honor guard slowly let the air out of his lungs and curled his index finger around the trigger.

What should have happened next was obvious. The gun would go off, the Americans and Chinese would shoot at each other, and maybe some of the European leaders would get caught in the crossfire. There would be blood everywhere and, more importantly, any survivors would paint a tale horrific enough to draw their country and others into a large-scale war. The guard would die a glorious death, and his family would be compensated with a hero's earnings.

Instead, the gun in his hands leapt up with such force that it snapped the bone in the guards finger on its way out, and the stock caught him in the chin, knocking him dizzy. He looked up to try and locate it, but that rifle was gone, gone, gone.

To add insult to injury, two Japanese, a man and a woman, grabbed him from behind and threw him to the ground.

"Okay," Komakado said, 'Talk."

* * *

 **Courtyard outside Formal Manor**

Ayaka was confident that she could do at least two useful things with magic: set things on fire, and launch objects high into the air. When she saw the glint of the sniper of the roof, she immediately pointed a hand at it and, just as she had practiced, thought, _launch!_

"Did you see that!?" Ayaka cheered from the East gate. "It hit him right in the face!"

Lelei simply nodded, as if this was all according to plan rather than an act of desperation.

"Does that mean we won?" Ayaka asked.

Rory shook her head and pointed down at the American tanks. "No," she said. "Now the true test begins."

* * *

With the Japanese out of the picture, the only conflict that remained was between the Chinese and American security forces.

This was probably made worse by Clayton, who turned to one of the soldiers and stated, "Sergeant, please retrieve the sample container from the Russians."

As the soldier moved to comply, Carol placed herself between him and the Russian PM.

"Ma'am-"

"We're not done yet," Carol said. "If all of you go home at this stage, we'll get nothing but preparation for a fast, nasty war."

This time Clayton stepped forward. "You're not wrong," he said, "But by handing that sample to the Russians, you're granting them access to a potentially unique source of biological medical or weapons information-"

"Oh, give me a _break_ ," Carol said. "You've already got a Gate. If you want the thing in the jar so badly, I'll lend you the LER and a pair of hedge trimmers. Look, _all of you_ ," she turned to face the group. "Right now you have an excellent opportunity in front of you. You can turn your backs on each other like you usually do and go back to fighting, or you can use this Gate technology and point your efforts out into the rest of the Galaxy. That creature over there is one organism from one planet from one of _hundreds of billions_ of star systems... and that's just our galaxy. Set up a telescope here in Falmart, and you can go add another hundred-billion to that figure. Somewhere out there is a blanket cure for the common cold. Somewhere is a cure for paralysis. Somewhere is a trick for fixing nerve tissue damage, or regrowing limbs, or living forever. Somewhere out there is another advanced technological civilization that may have discovered the solutions to scientific or mathematical problems we have missed.

"Look around you. Look at how much our world has changed because we had access to _one_ new planet. You have the chance to increase those gains by a thousand orders of magnitude, and all you need to do is point this technology _up_ instead of at each other."

She looked around one more time. "Ten years ago, at Hakone, your men killed each other over what you thought was a scarce resource. Share the Gate. Use it. Never worry about scarcity again."

No one spoke, and Clayton shook his head. "It's not that simple, Dr. Dawson-"

Mahana moved. Dawson and Clayton watched in concern and alarm as he pushed his way past the Secret Service agents to Chinese security team. They still had their weapons out, but Mahana didn't seem to acknowledge them or care, walking right past them. None of them dared intervene. They couldn't; not without risking the wrath of the American guns surrounding them. Besides, the President himself was unarmed.

He stopped arm's reach away from Liao and said, "What do you think?"

The Chinese leader raised an eyebrow. "Would you really be willing to share the technology with us?"

"You're fooling no one, Liao. If you hacked the F-35 out of us, it's only a matter of time before you've done it with Gate tech. How close are you?"

"I have no idea-"

"We finished last week."

The American and Chinese President turned to look at the speaker. It was one of the Chinese diplomats, a PLA General in full uniform. His expression was cold and unflinching, which made it impossible for Clayton to tell if this man was being serious, or if this was just a really, really good bluff. Liao hissed a burst of questions at him in Mandarin and got an equally terse reply, prompting him to turn back to the American and say, "Apparently, we already have one."

 _No, no, that can't be right_. Clayton thought. Surely, the NRO or CIA would have picked up on it. At the same time though, he couldn't help but wonder... what if they did!? They wouldn't know for certain until a Chinese nuke was transported directly into the Pentagon courtyard, and by then it would be too late! There had to be a way to figure it out, there had to!

Mahana had already moved on though. "If we… if all of us, including Zyuganov's people and the Europeans, if we all had multinational exploration parties going through any Gate that gets made at all times, then it acts as a constant multilateral inspection. If everyone gets an equal piece of what we find on the other side… do you get where I'm going with this?"

The Chinese President nodded. "If nothing else, keeping every Gate occupied around the clock with scientific expeditions prevents them from being used as weapons."

"If you think we will let China and the USA do this without Russian observation, you are wrong," Zyuganov said. "Whatever you sign, we want in immediately."

Various other Prime Ministers chimed in and Mahana said, "Okay, okay, let's get the basics ironed out now. Where's our host… Myui, right? Have you got a pen and a piece of paper? If not, a napkin will do-"

"You can't be serious!" Clayton shouted. "Our most advanced weapon, and you're just going to share it with everyone else!?"

"Not the specifications," Mahana said. "Just access, and a promise of access from any other country that develops the same technology. If we don't do it this way, any two nations with Gates would be almost compelled to destroy each other, since with nukes, destruction is on a thirty-minute timer. With Gates, it's instantaneous. This isn't like Kouhara's nutty request; if we don't put a lid on this _now_ , we're _all_ done for."

"I'm sorry, sir, but that's not acceptable! All we need to do is assure that we remain the sole power-"

"That's never going to happen, Robert, and you know it."

"I refuse to give up without trying."

"Then I will accept your resignation, or I will fire you here and now, and have you taken into custody," Mahana said. "Your choice."

Carol watched as Clayton seethed. Up until that point, he had been the one in control the one with the power, the plans, the tricks… and for the first time in perhaps decades, he was being reigned in. Ultimately he looked in her direction, and she shook her head. She had already said her piece at the gala and didn't need to repeat it here.

Ultimately, he turned to the soldiers, with their guns and tanks and preparation for war, and gave his last order as a public servant.

"Gentlemen...go home."

* * *

As they watched the JSDF move to take the remaining Falmart Honor Guards into custody, Ayaka asked Rory, "Weren't you expecting a battle?"

The Apostle shrugged. "Not all important battles are fought with blades and bullets."

"It's just…" she looked away, not entirely sure how to describe it. After hearing and seeing so much destruction back on Earth, she hadn't wanted any more, but for so many world leaders to stop and just say no… so many books and movies and news reports had made her think that the nations of the world were on a hair-trigger, but perhaps the truth of the matter was that most people, even politicians, did not want to go to war. After all, wars were expensive and upsetting and took money and attention away from other things. They could have easily chosen war; anyone could have taken the shot. If not for her own intervention, someone _would_ have taken the shot, but she, herself, had changed the outcome.

"In the end, we decide what parts of our relationships we want to be real," she said.

She looked to Rory for a response, but the Apostle said nothing, gave a satisfied nod, and began to walk away. "One more battle remains."

"Huh?" Ayaka asked. "I thought it was all over!"

Rory laughed. "Nearly! This last battle shall be _one on one_."


	18. Chapter 17 - That's one small step

**THE NEXT DAY**

 **A Tavern in Alnus, the Special Region**

Komakado had heard a great deal about this particular tavern. Apparently, it had been one of the first built at the Alnus Refugee settlement soon after the initial JSDF invasion. Inside the architecture was still relatively traditional "rustic Falmart" in style, but it had been wired up with electric lighting, air conditioning, and a sound system. The snake-haired girl at the cash register greeted him as he entered and directed him to the rest of his party, over by a window.

Kengun and Tomita waited on one side of the booth, one nursing coffee, the other tea. "Tomita was just talking about you," Kengun said. "It sounds like you've had an exciting week. I'm amazed that you're still standing."

Komakado snorted, "It will take more than a criminal organization, a global disaster, and a geopolitical plot to take down an old geezer like me. What I still fail to understand is how that last part happened without anyone dying. I was _certain_ that the gun would go off before I took that guy down."

"Believe it or not, it was that Japanese girl you brought us," Tomita said. "Sasaki Ayaka? She's also been all over the place this past week or two. It's pretty crazy to think about, but if not for her, we might have been meeting in a bomb shelter instead of a restaurant."

"Ironic," Komakado said. "We came to Falmart for their magic, and they came to us for our technology, but in the end, when it was them with an assault rifle versus one of our home-grown magicians, Japan still came out on top. Still, it's nice to know that I had some influence in things going right. Speaking of influence..." he leaned across the table and lowered his voice. "That was a damn risky stunt you guys pulled. If it was any more aggressive, I'd call it a coup of the Japanese government."

"The Government was always in control," Kengun said simply. "It's not like Minister Nomura is running the government now. One of the benefits of having so much bureaucracy, both in politics and the military, is that it helps reduce the chances of a country damaging itself by having a madman in power. If Sherry hadn't been so involved in the creation of the Falmart Republic's Constitution, she would have never been able to do what she did in Italica. I fully expect them to pass a few laws before the whole mess is sorted out."

"But, I mean, you never told Kouhara about the Gate. The military made a conscious decision to do that."

"The Americans did the same thing, Mahana did not know about the Gate either," Kengun said with a shrug. "My goal was always to nudge the Americans into signing a Gate treaty somehow, and I wasn't about to give information to a crazy woman like Kouhara."

He smiled and added, "Also, the woman is a bitch for pressuring Hazama over the Bomb, and the way she manipulated the Diet after Rondel. She deserves all the anger she's getting at home right now."

Komakado nodded in agreement. It was still risky, and the fact that it had actually worked was one for the history books. Speaking of significant figures, "That reminds me, where is Itami? I was meaning to thank him before I left."

Kengun laughed. "He's on a mission, of course! One more mission to put the whole thing to rest!"

* * *

 **Between Beza and Sadera, Central Falmart Republic**

Sherry knew that she had failed as soon as she saw the helicopters.

There were only two, of course. If it had just been the Chinook then she might have thought that she'd gotten away with it, but the Cobra gunship that orbited overhead told the truth. They were waiting for her newly-armed guards to try and attack. If they did, the Cobra would put on the same kind of performance that chewed up the bandit siege of Italica a decade ago.

Indeed, some of the guards were piling out of their vehicles, but Sherry waved for them to stand down, told the driver to stop, and waited. There was nothing she could do with armed combat against the Japanese; not presently, at least. For now, her job was damage control; deny everything and hope that they didn't shoot her out of irritation.

The Chinook landed, and the person who stepped out confirmed that her arguments would fail. Itami Youji had a very irritated look on his face as he strode up to the car. He motioned for her to get back inside, and for the driver and other guards to leave them alone as JGSDF soldiers took up positions around the convoy.

Once the doors were shut, the sound of the helicopter dropped enough for her to casually say, "This is an unexpected surprise. Is something the matter, Mr. Youji?"

"Yeah," Itami growled. "You tried to start World War Three."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"We arrested the sniper you planted on top of the manor. It took a little while, but he talked."

Sherry tried not to let it show on her face, but this was probably the worst possible outcome. "Torture and Bribery are poor ways of extracting useful information. He told you whatever you wanted to hear."

"That's not the impression we got," Itami said. "And the court of public opinion back on Earth has made up its mind. They want you out, and they want you out _now._ "

"They are welcome to take it up with-"

"Sherry," Itami said, "The Americans the Russians, and the Chinese are all dead set on this. I'm not asking whether you agree with them or not. I'm telling you that in twenty-four hours, you'll either be leaving Sadera on foot or in a body bag."

" _Then what do you want from me?_ "

Itami pulled a letter out of his vest pocket. "This is from Sugawara. Whatever charm you had on him is still there. We can't do anything about that. Confess and resign the minute you step foot in the Senate. Go to Japan, shack up with the guy... twenty-two is more than old enough that people will have stopped asking questions. You'll never hold public office again, but it's better than winding up like Zorzal."

He opened the door. "All the countries have sent letters demanding your arrest to the Falmart Parliament, and Pina has already publicly condemned you to protect her people," he shouted over the helicopter. "I'd decide soon!"

* * *

 **THREE WEEKS LATER**

 **Ho Chi Mihn City, Vietnam**

Trihn finished rubber-banding the file, put out his cigarette, and stamped the cover indicating that the case was closed.

The position of Nguyen's lab on the outskirts of the city meant that it escaped both the military action and the looting, and everything inside was roughly the same as they had left it. The servers were reactivated long enough to collect contact information for the remaining Fist of Twelve cells, and criminal justice departments around the globe had been able to quickly disassemble the last holdouts of the organization. After that, the equipment was all moved to storage.

He stood and looked out his office window across the cityscape. The invading monsters had damaged many buildings and killed many people. Even with the threat gone, there was still much to do; utilities to repair, business to rebuild, people to mourn… it was the same around the world. Still, they _were_ doing it.

The one thing that remained unresolved was what to do about Nguyen's research. That had been confiscated by the highest levels of government, and, last he had been told, locked away. Perhaps that was for the best; the world had demonstrated that they could kill a god, but no one was eager to do it again so soon.

Trihn sat back down at this desk. _Either way…_

He picked up his phone, called the department director and said, "Ready for the next one."

* * *

 **The Kingdom of Carenth, the Special Region**

Ellie had known Carenth Hector's many descriptions, but this was her first time actually visiting. Like many of the nations beyond Falmart, the capitol had not yet caught the mass of technology pouring into the Special Region. To the people here, the JMSDF destroyer that had carried her out to this place was more alien than anything they had witnessed before. It was weird for Ellie to think that she had been like that only two years before… she didn't feel any different, but the way that people on the street gawked more at her denim jacket than her wings argued otherwise. She wondered how long it would take before the last person in this world experienced Earth for the first time.

The city itself was different from the ones in Falmart. The capital of Carenth stood on the freshwater delta of a river that emptied out of a vast desert, and the buildings were made of rust-colored sandstone and designed to beat the heat, rather than keep out the cold. Its winding roads and narrow paths reminded Ellie of pictures she'd seen of Marrakech, Morocco, and tradesmen from everywhere tried to get her attention, either to get her to buy something, or to ask about the clothes she was wearing. After the second day Ellie had given up on explaining polyester; she barely understood it herself.

The room she ultimately entered overlooked the port and the ocean beyond. It was a peaceful view, with birds and a handful of Monarchs flying around and beyond the multi-masted sailing ships. White clouds dotted the horizon, and a light breeze drew the salty air into the room in a way that reminded Ellie of her childhood in the little town by the sea.

"It's funny," she said, more to herself than anyone else. "I've seen the view from space, but on the ground it's just so much more...:"

"Intimate?"

Ellie turned to see the other occupant of the room. Hector was propped up on a couch, looking more tired and old than she had ever imagined him to be, but still smiling nonetheless.

If there was one good thing about EVA suits, it was that they were designed with the expectation that the wearer would be in them for a while. Despite all of the confusion surrounding the Gate, Mullan's team at Groom Lake had gone back to the Sea of Storms to retrieve Hector with enough speed that a quarter of his oxygen supply remained. Still, that did nothing to undo the wrath of the Godwrecker that was slowly killing him. He had firmly turned down treatment and instead requested a number of favors, including his return to his family home, a peaceful death, and to be buried along with his men.

For her part, Ellie was still putting the finishing touches on her post-mission report to NASA, and would be sending the update from her computer to the three satellites that had spurred her to begin her adventure to the stars in the first place. "I guess," she said. "Parts of California are like this too. It makes me wish I had more time to show it all to you."

Hector raised a hand and moved as if to brush the idea away. "I've lived enough and done enough. You've set your own goals and met them splendidly. As it is, the fact that you're taking all this extra time away from work on my behalf-"

"Shut up. _As if_ they could stop me. Us. We saved the world, you know. They can give us some space."

That got a chuckle out of Hector, who said, "Really, you've handled yourself well enough without me. I suspect that you'll do just fine once you return. You still have quite a career ahead of you… and what about that boy you mentioned-"

"I said we were _friends_ ," Ellie said, feeling the blood rush to her face. "Besides, I don't know if an Earth human would even like-"

"When you get back, I want you to talk to him, first thing you do. If it doesn't work out, keep talking to people until you find someone. Don't be alone. Don't wind up like I did."

"You found me though!"

"I got lucky."

Ellie sighed, then said, "I wonder… Hardy, Emroy, whomever you go to… do you think they'll be mad at you?"

Hector sighed. "Neither the Americans nor the Japanese were able to figure out what it means for souls to go to the Gods. I don't know what they'll think, or if I have any recourse once I get there. They might boil me in oil for all eternity, for all I know."

"Then tell them this," Ellie said. "If they trouble you at all, I'll make the Earth people burn them out of the sky here too. If they could do it on Earth, they could do it here too."

"I wonder what the Gods think about _that_. You'd really go through all that trouble for me, girl?"

Ellie sat down on the edge of his couch, placed a hand on his shoulder, and offered her best smile, even if it mismatched her broken heart.

"Always."

* * *

 **Mt. Thyferia, Dumas Mountains, outside Italica**

In a way, Ayaka had learned to appreciate the hike. The air was clear, it was quiet, and it gave her time to talk with her mentor.

"...and next week I'm still getting a staff, right?"

"Yes," Lelei said simply. Perhaps it wasn't the biggest thing to Lelei, but to Ayaka it was a big deal. All of her previous schooling had amounted to little more than a number on a chart, with a promise of an expensive piece of paper somewhere at the end. With magic, she would soon be getting her first staff, certifying her as a proper magic practitioner. In a month she had gotten better at it, and could now lift things gently, make controlled fires without burning herself, and was learning simple wind manipulation. To that end, she had practiced the past few days to be able to take Hector's place in the weather control ceremony, but this would be her first time participating as a full member.

"I've been thinking," Ayaka continued, "Next time, we should plan ahead. Haul up a portable heater and a gas grill, and have a late-night cookout when we're done."

"Perhaps if the weather pattern was accommodating."

"I heard they found another magic user like me in East Tokyo. I wonder what they're like."

Lelei had nothing to add.

They walked in silence for a moment, before Ayaka said, "You're quiet today...quieter than usual. Is something wrong?"

"The Gods of this world released a joint statement today. They agreed to continued non-interference, but they said that if Earth nations attempt to destroy them as we did with the one on Earth, they would retaliate." She shook her head. "Their threat is meaningless. If the Earth nations wish, they could use Gates to put space capsules directly into orbit around this planet, and the Gods would be unable to do anything about it. By demonstrating that Gods can be killed, the power that the Gods once held over this planet is truly, finally broken."

"If what you told me about the Gods is true, then it serves them right," Ayaka said. "There's so much that they could have done to make this world a better place, and it took the Earth nations stepping in before any of it happened."

"It wasn't just Earth," Lelei said. "It was all of us. All of us ultimately decided on a better world… including the Gods. The decision not to fight, as you know, can be as profound as the decision to attack."

Ayaka thought about it and Rory's claim that there was still one more battle to be fought. She hadn't seen the Apostle since Italica, and there hadn't been any news about her either. "How does that make you feel?" she said.

Lelei stopped. "I don't know," she said. "I don't know if the peace will last, or if it's even a true peace. Zorzal's death did not stop the rise of Rondel, and Rondel's defeat did not affect the calamity on Earth. We may be hurtling towards a new war at this very moment. Does it feel peaceful to you?"

Ayaka shrugged. "Things change. Maybe we'll be at war next year, or maybe we'll be at war tomorrow… but for now it feels like peace, and that's the reality I want to live in, even if it's only for a little while."

In the darkness, Ayaka thought she could see part of a smile on Lelei's face… or maybe it was just her imagination. "You have changed," she said.

"I guess," Ayaka replied, shouldering her pack and walking past her. "Come on, I brought marshmallows this time. We might not have enough time for a cookout, but with a few sticks and a little magic, we could still have some fun tonight."

* * *

 **Ginza, Tokyo, Japan**

It was raining outside, but that was to be expected. This time of year, it seemed to rain constantly in Japan, and Carol was more than used to lugging her umbrella around with her wherever she went.

 _It was raining the other times too,_ she thought. Both at the Smithsonian, _and_ at Tsukuba Space Center. She had been so happy to see Greta then, but this time she had been fearing it.

Following the events at Area 51, Greta had been extradited back to Japan. It was only after she had arrived in Narita that Carol received Greta's email saying that she planned to go back to the Special Region. Carol hadn't been able to characterize Greta's thoughts from the wording of the letter, and feared the worst. Would she feel angry? Betrayed? _Probably betrayed,_ Carol decided as she pushed her way into the restaurant.

Greta was sitting alone at a table by the back. She had a suitcase with her, which strongly suggested that she would be leaving as soon as the conversation ended. On noticing Carol's reflection in the window, she looked up at her mentor and, to Carol's relief, offered her a small smile and pointed at the chair across from her.

Carol sat down and said, "Thank you, I was worried that I wouldn't get to see you again."

"It's... I wouldn't do that you."

For a while, neither said anything, until Greta took a deep breath and said, "I was thinking about what you told me, a few weeks ago. About what I would do without you. I realized… you've been such a large part of my life up to now, I wasn't sure there was any of _me_ left. That's scary. That's scary and it's not right. It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to me, and things can't stay that way… so I decided to go back. Maybe they'll let me work in the Imperial Aviation Group, or whatever they're calling it now, but if they don't that's still fine. My plan is to take a Mag-3, or something similar, and go traveling until I can figure out who I'm supposed to be."

She shrugged and added, "I'm sorry… it feels like I'm giving up on space-"

"Not at all!" Carol said.

Greta cocked her head to the side, confused.

"Space is… it's never been about space itself," she said. "At the end, space isn't about the engineering or even the act of being there."

"It's about figuring out if you're worth it?" Greta recalled.

But Carol shook her head. "When Kennedy talked about it many years ago, he asked why climb mountains or cross oceans? Why go to the moon? I think I described it to you when I said that it's about figuring out if you were worth it. 'We choose to go to the moon and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard.' Greta, space is a _mirror_. It's something that forces us to take a serious look at ourselves. It exposes our hopes and our fears, the places where we excel and where we fail. Space is hard, and as a result it's honest.

"What you're doing is something you've acknowledged as being very hard for you, something that you know that you struggle with. That's good! That's as good, if not _better_ than going into space. If you find yourself along the way, that's what _makes_ it worth it."

Greta slowly nodded, took a ragged breath, and said, "You always have a way words."

"Thanks, I guess."

"What about you?"

That question actually gave her some pause. "What about me?"

"If you're right about the Gate, space is solved. What were you looking for? What did you need a mirror for?"

It was a remarkably perceptive question, one Carol had never expected to hear from Greta, of all people. She supposed it was time.

"I can't have kids," she said. "There's medical and legal reasons behind that. I threw myself into space research because I still wanted to contribute _something_ to the world… I guess I succeeded? As for what I'll do next… I don't know. I guess that's my mirror now."

"I guess both of us still have a lot to figure out." She stood. "My bus is leaving soon. It's nice to see-"

"And I want you to know that I love you too," Carol blurted. It was unprompted, sure, but it was honest. In the end Greta had been everything she couldn't have, everything she'd wanted, and now she was leaving. She dropped her face into her hands, and could already feel the tears coming hot and fast. _Why wasn't I more honest about that fact? Why didn't I say it sooner?_

She felt Greta's arms encircle her shoulders, and her face on the side of her head. "Hey," Greta said. "Regardless of what happens? I can always visit Japan, and you can always visit Alnus. This time, it's entirely up to us. Once you think you've figured things out, call me. I promise I'll call you. We _will_ meet again."

"I'll miss you though."

"So will I." Greta gave her one last squeeze, and departed.

Nearly a decade ago, Carol had stood on the viewing gantry for Launch Complex 39 at the Kennedy Space Center, wondering what would happen next, staring out at a rocket that had never been tested before, her mind filled with what felt like a hundred unknowns.

In the end, Falcon Heavy had flown. It had done so spectacularly, and she had been present to watch both of its rocket boosters land back at the Cape, like a giant mechanical ballet. That was just how life went, sometimes. You never knew how things would go until you took flight yourself.

She looked out the large restaurant window to see Greta cross to the other side of the road and turn back in her direction. Carol tried to smile and raised a hand to her.

Greta, thirty feet and seemingly a whole world away, waved back.

 _Hello. Goodbye. Safe travels._

* * *

 **Maui, Hawaii, United States**

The golf driving range was unremarkably quiet, considering how early in the morning it was. Probably due to the fact that the range itself faced east into the sun, and no one who took their game seriously would be up at this hour, as they would lose sight of every ball they hit.

Not Clayton. He was used to waking up early every day of the week and getting immediately to work. The sudden end to his career meant that he was left with little to do beyond writing a memoir and pondering his stock portfolios, so the early-dawn visit to the golf course had become a must, lest he find himself pacing circles around his hotel room, as he had at the beginning.

The former ambassador unsheathed his nine iron, placed the first of forty-some balls onto the tee, positioned himself, and took aim.

 _Thwack_ -ball number one went sailing off into the morning light.

Ultimately, the situation with Kouhara had ended amicably. The lovely fact of the matter was that Kengun had plenty of documentation on her involvement with Sherry and her abuse of control over the JSDF. Once the Japanese public heard what had happened, their reaction was vicious and severe. The Diet had called for her immediate removal, and articles of impeachment had already been filed. _Maybe I'll run into her on the golf course too,_ he wondered.

 _Thwack_ -ball number two sailed similarly straight. He vaguely recalled there being a sand trap in that direction, followed by a flag. Clayton wondered which he was closer to.

Sherry had done the smart thing and sentenced herself to exile the moment she returned to Sadera, and had gone to live with Sugawara in Sapporo. The United States and Russia had been satisfied with this response, but it remained to be seen if China, the target of the assassination attempt, still held a grudge. If so, he expected to read her obituary in a week or two. If not, then Sugawara's parallel termination from the Ministry of Foreign affairs meant that the pair would be condemned to boring normalcy for the rest of their lives. Either way, Sherry had pushed just a little too hard, and would now be forced to pay the price. That's how it went, Clayton supposed. Spend enough time in politics and you begin to think you're invincible. That was false, of course. No one was invincible. He had learned that the hard way.

 _Thwack-_ ball three went wide to the left. He thought he heard a plop as it landed in a water feature.

Meanwhile, the nations of the world were rebuilding from Nguyen's attacks. The stock exchange had been closed for nearly two weeks, and had dropped faster than an F-22 in a nosedive at full afterburner at the open. It broke a lot of records, freaked a lot of people out, but as per usual the only people who lost money were those that pulled out. Clayton saw it for what it was, a market correction, and was gradually working his way back up. In the meantime, memorials were being built, people were being given time to grieve, and the news gave deeply confused, shallow, and speculative reports on the attack, despite the Department of Defense releasing a very, very clear and revealing thousand-page report on the mini-war, and NASA releasing a technical report of nearly double that length as it encompassed the details of foreign training and negotiations as well. Nguyen himself was dead, of course, and the remaining cells of the Fist of Twelve were rounded up using the data from the Vietnam lab. Information on Apostle-to-God research was supposedly destroyed by the Vietnamese government as a show of good faith, but Clayton didn't believe it. Years of cynicism made him wonder if the formula was the center of a secret international bidding war… but ultimately that would matter little if true. The last great dangerous secret of the Special Region was how to make an Apostle, and without the ability to make one, there was no way to upgrade a person the rest of the way to Godhood.

 _Thwack_ -this one had a slightly better trajectory than the last. He squinted through his sunglasses trying to see where it went, but couldn't spot it.

As for the Gate at Area 51, supposedly it was being used by international scouting parties to learn more about local solar systems. There was no way to know for sure, as ADMIT FUSCHIA was still a black project, and with a revoked security clearance, there was little Clayton knew about what was going on with the machine. He liked to think that America was building a second one; one for public display and exploration purposes, one for military usage and to maintain a leash over the Gods of Falmart. More likely though, the money was being spent to find a way to roll back Apocryph, as it would make little sense to go on grand adventures to other star systems if Earth itself was lost as a result.

Maybe China actually had been building a Gate. Maybe not. Either way, the insta-kill nature of Gate weapons made it so that both China and the United States were fearful of the consequences. A treaty banning Gates as weapons was issued at the temporary UN Headquarters in Geneva and signed unanimously by both the UN Security Council and General Assembly. Of course, the UN could never hope to enforce such a treaty, but with China and the United States equally invested in their own security, it seemed implicitly clear that any country that violated the treaty would be leveled without pause-a Gate war would be that fast and that dangerous.

 _Thwack_ -the fifth ball went low and bounced a few times. Clayton sighed. He hadn't tried a full game of golf in years, and he wondered if his inconsistent performance was more a reflection on his ability, or just his state of mind. He reached into the bucket and teed up the next ball.

As for the Special Region itself...who knew? Some investors had already pulled out with an expectation that the new planets accessible through the Gate would be more lucrative, but others stayed, hoping to continue researching magic or selling to the fledgling Falmart Republic. In a decade or two, Clayton was sure that a trip to Falmart would be as eventful as a trip to Romania. Falmart would become, regrettably or not, part of the new 'normal'. Everyone over there would no longer be a mystery.

"You're a hard man to find," a voice behind Clayton said, causing him to miss the next ball completely.

 _Well,_ he thought as he recognized his visitor, _maybe not_ _ **everyone**_.

Rory Mercury was standing just a few feet behind him, but the early morning light made the shadow behind her seem gigantic; suggesting the true power hidden inside such a small body. She had shown up in her usual attire, halberd in hand, thin, wide smile on her face. Slowly, Clayton lowered his golf club, took off his sunglasses, and asked, "Are you here to kill me?"

The girl cocked her head and said, "Depends, have you the gall to attack me with that weapon there?"

"Weapon?" Clayton looked down at the golf club. "It's...um… game equipment. You use it to strike small white balls, normally at a hole sitting underneath a flag."

"Oh! May I try?"

Clayton teed up another golf ball and stepped back, offering her his nine iron. The Apostle ignored him, flipped her halberd around, and whipped it down with enough force that the air itself seemed to shriek with the force of the hit.

He heard a loud popping noise, not unlike a gunshot, as the golf ball went either rocketing away at the speed of sound, or exploded from atmospheric friction. Clayton didn't know, but he did observe with some interest that the tee on the green below him was now empty; tilted slightly askew, but otherwise unharmed. "Does this mean I win?" Rory asked.

"Sure, Rory, you win." Clayton leaned onto the rail at the edge of his driving lane and said, "so what's this about?"

"Aww...no pleasantries or formalities?" Rory said with a pout.

"I'm retired."

"But aren't you curious about the outcome of your little war against the Gods of Falmart?" she absentmindedly brushed her hair back. "After all, that _is_ the one thing we have in common, is it not?"

Clayton had almost forgotten what if felt like; to be standing across from someone trying to play him. On the one hand, it was all behind him now. On the other, old habits die hard-otherwise he wouldn't be out golfing, would he? "What else is there to say?" he said. "There was a battle. I won. That's that."

"Did you?" The smile returned to Rory's face. "Tell me, why did the Gods open a Gate in the first place?"

"Because Hardy was bored?" Clayton said.

"Bored would be putting it simply," Rory said. "Centuries of cultural stagnation, no new interesting creatures or races… the JSDF was a breath of fresh air...for a time. The Japanese hide it very well-all you Earth people do-but beneath all of that technology is more of the same. The same bickering, the same fights over land, and from the sound of it, sixty years of stagnation. You fought your war, the world was satisfied with the result, and little has changed since. Worse still, your ability to impose Earth culture on the Empire with no cost suggested more of the same, on a scale the Empire could have never dreamed of achieving. With no natural forces left to avert your new brand of stagnation, Hardy attempted to counter with some unnatural ones."

"So we nuked her," Clayton said, recalling the order of events.

"Truly, you used the Godwrecker on all of them. They could no longer perform grand gestures, as they had before. It took so long for an opportunity to appear that the Gods almost missed it."

"Rondel?" Clayton said, "No… Nguyen. You meant Dr. Nguyen."

"Correct. He approached Palapon looking not for revenge, but for the opportunity to introduce volatility; something we had been missing all this time. The gods could not influence Earth any longer. Not overtly, at least."

"Big deal, we stopped him too," Clayton said with a shrug.

"Oh, of course," Rory said, sliding up next to him. "You _stopped_ him. You did not stop the change. Now you have nations more eager to gain on each other through exploration than through scheming and violence. It's a radical change, and beautiful in its own way."

Clayton shook his head. "Doesn't matter, we still won."

"Sure, Robert Clayton," Rory parroted, "You won."

"That's not funny."

"But it is true," Rory said. "If I have learned nothing else over nearly a millennium of life, it's that wars are ultimately fought and won in the heads of the people that fight them. You may have won the conventional battle against the Gods, but when it comes to change...who won the war?"

"Whatever you say," Clayton said. "If you're done gloating, I'd like to get back to my game."

Rory giggled. " _Robert_ ," she said. "The war isn't over yet. There is one more battle I wished to fight, and we are fighting it right now."

Clayton folded his arms. "So you're trying to bring me over to your way of thinking?"

"New opportunities generate new needs. Surely it's only a matter of time before humans start to settle the stars. You could be among them."

The former ambassador shook his head. "In the peaceful exploration of space, there's no place for a ruthless old man like me."

"You'd be surprised. Falmart might have fallen easily to your guns, but there are likely worlds out there that are not so easily tamed."

Was there actually anyone who would want him if something like that were to happen? Clayton wasn't sure, so he reached down, pulled another golf ball out of the carrying bucket and said, "I'll consider it."

"That's good enough for me."

Conversation over, Clayton placed the next ball on the tee and lined up his nine iron to strike it. He didn't need to look up to know that Rory had already probably gone. _Not so easily tamed, huh?_ Maybe not immediately, and it might be years before it became publicly accessible, but perhaps there was a wild frontier out there in need of a grand strategist. After all, Carol had talked about pointing Gates at the stars instead of at other nations, what was stopping him from doing the same with his strategic knowledge?

There were new worlds out there. New frontiers. New opportunities.

Retire to Maui? _Hah!_

 _Thwack_ -this one seemed to go for miles and miles and miles.


	19. Chapter 18 - Ad Astra

**Author's Note (Final)**

In February of 2017, the author of _Here We Go Again_ published a thread on r/Gate titled "How to Avoid Writing a Bad Gate Fanfic." In his second point, he noted that the majority of Gate fics consisted of sending some nation through the Gate to go roflstomp Romans. At that time, I realized that my silly NASA idea might be a fun way to subvert the normal Gate pattern, in that it would not include a Gate invasion, would not include any crossovers or time travel, would limit military action as much as possible, and would feature a cast of characters where every person was at least slightly wrong about something.

While I am uncertain if I met all the criteria of that Reddit thread, I feel pretty satisfied in what I have written. I feel like I have successfully gotten Gate and NASA out of my system, and that all of the plot threads have been played out to their furthest extent. This is truly, _finally_ , it.

I've learned a lot about writing through this experience, as this was my first time writing print-length serial novels, which was a great deal more intimidating than the yearly NaNoWriMo. If it helps any of you going forward, here are some key points that worked for me:

 **1) Have A Plan -** Each volume of the Skies series used about a page and a half of bullet points, with notes for each chapter describing little more than what characters were present, where they were, and (briefly) what they were doing. For instance, this is everything I had written down for Ch1-4:

 _* Rory at Hakone, Komakkado vs Ayaka, the changing world_

 _* Govt talks with Dawson, Youmei, Kuragin, Greta, "Why do they want to know?".Ayaka offered option of going to SR_

 _* Kommakado performs interviews of captured cult. Ayaka in new world, Lelei._

 _* Evening Gate Gala? Ayaka explores Italica, opens discussion on magic._

It also contained a brief section at the top listing the story's driving secrets, and each character's name, occupation and personal flaw.

 _Sasaki, Ayaka - The Holden Caulfield 'phony' issue (Japan)_

 _The Key secrets:_

 _* Nguyen is trying to become a god_

 _* Japan PM intends to hold WLs hostage for better trade options. US plans to outmaneuver and hostage hostage takers, Sherry wants to start WWIII to make FR more powerful._

 _* Kuragin did nothing wrong, him being Russian isn't important_

You really don't need to plan further ahead than that, except during battle scenes, which get a few more bullet points for keeping track of the action.

 _*Everything explodes_

 _-Berlin_

 _-Sydney_

 _-Houston_

 _-Moscow_

 _-London_

 _-Outside of Tokyo_

 _-SR_

 _-Taking off from Des Moines, Iowa_

 _-AFO, all the action_

 _-Singapore_

All worldbuilding that wasn't grounded in real life was usually improvised on the spot. Keep in mind: if it's not one of those Key Secrets, it's exposition, and you should _never_ be wasting too much of your planning time on that, if you can help it.

 **2) The Characters are the Story** \- So you've just sent Captain Crunch through the Gate with his band of Heroes, and the ground is now littered with Roman corpses. Now what? The effective way to keep a story moving along is to know your characters, what they want, what they fear, and write to _that_. The Gate, Falmart, Magic, all of it should be a vehicle for exploring your characters, and the more you let your characters tell your story instead of the world, the easier time you'll have finding something for those characters to do after the 293rd Siege of Italica. I've been especially enjoying havok038's _God of Cookery_ , which does a brilliant job at this, and would highly recommend it to everyone else.

 **3) You are Writing for People** \- Keep in mind that you're writing for an audience of humans. They have things they like and that they don't like, and that they have limited time too. This means that they will always prefer hearing something from you over silence. Perhaps that means you don't get to write a 20,000 word chapter. That's fine. Release 5,000 word chapters instead. Bank as much writing as you can ahead of time, because there will be days where you can't write, and having those chapters ready and waiting can be a lifesaver. For Fire, I had two chapters banked at the offset. For Thunder, I had five. For Starlight, I had all but the last two. Guess which was the least stressful?

 **4) Know the Core Material** \- If you haven't been on Skythewood's site and read the Gate LNs, you should. The more that you remember, the less you need to go searching for later, and the more tools you'll have for keeping things interesting if your characters aren't being challenged, or are being challenged too much.

2019 looks like it's going to be an exciting year for spaceflight. Back in 2017 Falcon Heavy was the most interesting thing going on, but this year we have everything from Commercial Crew Launches with SpaceX and Boeing and the start of Space Tourism though Virgin Galactic and Blue Origin, through to Commercial lunar landers and a host of deep space probes. With so many new beginnings, it's a great time to be interested in the field, and I can't wait to see how this year turns out.

I would like to thank everyone who stuck with me these past three years, and everyone since the start who was willing to give these stories and these characters a chance. Hopefully they have given you one or two laughs, a few seconds of feels, and made you stop and think here and there.

Before I go, there is _one last thing_ I wanted to cover. After all, a powerful coalition suddenly having access to a Gate to other worlds does create a striking sense of Deja vu...

* * *

" _Well, space is there, and we're going to climb it, and the moon and the planets are there, and new hopes for knowledge and peace are there. And, therefore, as we set sail we ask God's blessing on the most hazardous and dangerous and greatest adventure on which man has ever embarked."_

 _-John F. Kennedy, 1962, Rice University_

* * *

 **THREE YEARS LATER**

 **Kepler-62f**

 **Five Thousand, Two Hundred and Eighty Trillion Miles from Earth**

The air seemed to twist and bend in on itself as the Gate formed, churning and then tunneling inward before admitting its first explorer.

The UGV was rugged and somewhat bulky. It had to be, considering as it was impossible to tell much about the surface features of most exoplanets from long range. It rolled across the interestingly smooth terrain on its six bulbous wheels and extended a series of cameras and sensors on booms to get a clearer impression of its surroundings. It also unleashed half a dozen drones from a compartment on its back to begin building a map of the area. Once done, it sent its analysis back to the team on the other side, which slowly began to filter through.

First through was CMSgt. Jones, formerly of the 24th STS, United States Air Force, followed immediately after by Chief Sergeant 1st Class Zhao, formerly part of "South Blade", Chinese PLAGF. Neither wore equipment that would have been recognizable a decade earlier, as each wore lightweight environment suits built of synthesized wyvern skin and dragon scales-tough, flexible, and impervious to light arms. They each also held identical copies of the Raytheon Mk.2 Phizon Directed Plasma Energy Weapons, better known by that point as "Blasters." These weapons used onboard Focus Crystals and Phizon-balanced fusion cells to launch superheated plasma at supersonic speeds over a dialable spectrum, allowing them to operate as fast-firing short range automatic weapons, or slow-firing long-range beam snipers.

Together, they took up positions behind the UGV and scanned their surroundings before Jones clicked on his radio and said, "LT, it's just as crazy as the pictures. You need to see it to believe it."

The rest of the recon squad made its way though, composed of either the best or craziest Earth had to offer. There, former SAS, here, a Spetsnaz loaner. Korean SBS, Polish GROM, Israeli Sayeret, Indian MARCOS… it was impossible to know what one would encounter on an alien planet, and so the UN Gate Task Force collected the best of the best into twelve units and sent them as a kind of warning to any creatures dumb enough to bite first and ask questions later. Second to last was a Falmart Republic former battlemage, who slowly waved his staff around as he cast a detection ward; after all, not every magic trick had a technological equivalent just yet.

Finally, any expedition on this scale required an interesting background and a certain level of boldness to succeed in. Lt. Shino Kuribayashi had declared years ago that she wouldn't let a ridiculous otaku like Itami one-up her, and had applied for officer and Special Forces school. With much of the JSDF's old 3rd Recon Team either retired or otherwise engaged, Kuribayashi somehow came up as the most experienced available member of the Japanese Military in first contact scenarios. While thirteen years had mellowed her out a lot, she still had a crazy streak which reared its head from time to time. The others didn't mind; sometimes, with the things they had encountered, you needed to be a little crazy to know how to respond.

Kuribayashi whistled in admiration at the landscape around them. In the past year, she had seen it all; diamond cliffs that rose miles out of a mint-green ocean like frozen waves, sprawling neon forests that shuddered and sang as you walked through them, skies full of dirigible-whale herds thick enough to blot out the sun… but nothing that compared to this.

"...is this a city?" Kuribayashi said.

Indeed, they were surrounded by crystalline spire-like structures filled with strange, shrublike creatures without familiar appendages, slithering along designated sidewalks or riding hovering tablets that spat static as they moved. As the reconnaissance team from the Gate watched, several such vehicles pulled up and disgorged a small army of the creatures, all grasping odd metal poles. One advanced, its outer branches rippling with waves of glowing lavender light, like some deranged cuttlefish.

The lieutenant advanced carefully, weapon slug over her shoulder, arms out, palms open. She keyed her suit speakers and said, "Hi there! We're visitors! Want to be friends?"

But at the noise, the creatures turned a bright orange, leveled their poles at her, and the meaning became abundantly clear. "L.T.!" Jones shouted, "DUCK!"

And she did, just quickly enough to miss what seemed like a bolt of lightning as it passed over her head and struck the stationary UGV behind it, shattering it with the force of an explosion and knocking half of the soldiers to the ground.

Kuribayashi wasn't sure if her actions had come off as aggressive, or if these aliens were just aggressive themselves. Either way, she now had only one priority: to get her team out alive.

 _If all of human history could be compressed into a single idiom, it would probably be "Playing with Fire." On the one hand, mankind has always prided itself in advancement through pushing boundaries, whether social, technological, or geographical. On the other, fire can and will eventually burn you._

"Open fire!" she shouted, and the invaders from the far side of the Gate began their counterattack.

 _Thus they fought there._

* * *

8andahalfby11

February 23, 2019


End file.
